Survived By
by ForTheLore
Summary: "He's already too much like you?" "Exactly." "That's not a bad thing Tony..." Sam glanced back at the elevator doors as they finally dinged. They slid open with a hydraulic induced hiss before allowing the men to step on. "I mean...If you do. Ya know? You saved a lot of people, and took a lot of damage. Best of all, is you didn't even give up when the stakes were against you."
1. Chapter 1

**Survived By…**

 **Part One**

It was always the same cream colored walls, and the same white linoleum floors. No matter how many hospice homes that he visited, they all had that same distinct odor of depression and death. Every now and then, he would see a glimpse of acceptance—someone who was ready to go. They had lived their life to their fullest, and made the most of what they had. But a good chunk of the time, Sam noted as he turned down the last hallway to stand before the large dark pine door, they were desperate for someone to give them that last glimpse of hope.

It was the most depressing part of his job.

"Marcus Prince…" Sam muttered to himself as he flipped through the file. He had been hired on as a therapist, to listen to the dying, and to help them accept what was coming. It was in his job description, and a good ninety percent of the time, he was able to walk away feeling as if he had been able to let his patient leave their life with some form of acceptance. He just wanted to make sure they were comfortable, mentally and emotionally, when the time came.

Carefully, taking a moment to compose himself, Sam let his knuckles rap against the door. He waited the appropriate amount of time—quite used to getting no answer from the inside—before stepping into the threshold.

"Hello, Mr. Prince," Same greeted as calmly as he could. In the beginning of his workings, he had made the mistake of being cheery. He had thought that if he could just bring a little bit of joy into the work place then those who were expecting the end would feel a little better. Instead, Sam found it made them bitter and hateful. They had cursed him out and accused of him being heartless because they were suffering and why should he make it out to be enjoyable?

"Who the hell are you?"A voice, long deteriorated from long term smoking, rasped out from the bed. He had a square jaw line, long worn down by the weight of gravity and the stress of being a veteran. He was still a rather stout man, though Sam imagined he would have been tall and broad in his days of activity in the field.

"I'm Sam Wilson, your grief counselor." Sam pursed his lips in a thin line, making sure to keep the grim look on his face. Make them think you understand, he reminded himself as he readjusted the slipping folders in his hand.

"I don't need no-" Prince's breath hitched in his throat just before he doubled over coughing sputum into his clenched fist. "Don't need no damned counselor." The man griped, shooting the first of many dirty glares at the man standing before him. "I ain't so worried I'm gonna die. Done accepted it." The man huffed, crossing his arms over his chest. It was a defensive posture that was all too familiar to Sam. He had seen it far too many times in those that weren't just afraid of what awaited them on the other side, but were terrified of it.

But he couldn't blame them. They had done their best in their life, and most times, they couldn't understand by the end why they were dying. Why had they been picked by the hand of death while their great uncle Johnson who had smoked and drunk every day of his life still lived on, healthy as a damned ox? And for those questions, Sam never had an answer. But that certainly didn't mean that he didn't try his best to give them one.

"I'm sure," Sam sighed softly collapsing into the char just beside the man. The sneer that Prince had sent him didn't go unnoticed, but when he kicked his shoes off and hitched them up onto the side of the bed, it was worth the look of confusion. "So then my job is done. Mind if I just nap for the next thirty minutes?" Sam allowed his head to fall back against the uncomfortable rest of the chair.

And for the next thirty minutes, Marcus Prince said nothing. The grumpy man simply stared ahead at the television, stubby arms crossed over his chest in annoyance. Sam would give it two more visits before the man opened up. And then for the next three weeks, as it always seemed to go, they would get closer until he passed.

"Alright," Marcus groused, dragging an arthritic hand down his face. "Alright your thirty minutes is up. Get out."

Exaggerating his stretches, Sam stood from the chair and smiled as warmly as he could towards the aged man.

"Guess I'll see you next week then." Sam rolled his shoulders and neck, enjoying the cracking and popping that it relieved.

"Hopefully not." Prince grouched sinking further into the white sheets of the bed.

* * *

After the first visits, Sam liked to take about ten minutes after to make notes of his observations. The slight twitches in the way the man sat, or how he lisped when he talked. If he rolled his eyes, or shook his head while saying yes. It was little things that he was looking for that would give him confirmation on the persons acceptance. It would be the little movements that would make him feel like he had done his best.

And Marcus had done none of the minute gestures that would have left Sam worrying. But he had been a rude old man that was lonely. Even if it wasn't part of his job description, Sam would still check on him the next few days just so he wasn't alone all of the time.

"Alright," Sam sighed making his way behind the nurse's desk. "Who's next?" He dropped Marcus Prince's file into a small holder marked Checked. It had been designed by one of the nurses before him to help with organization. In another file holder marked Needs to Be Checked, depth fingers wrapped around another manila folder.

"Parker, huh?" Sam's brow drew down in confusion at the familiarity of the name. He had heard it before, that much he was sure, he just wasn't exactly sure where. It wasn't exactly an uncommon surname, and Sam wouldn't have been surprised if he had heard it recently, but it stuck to the roof of his mouth. He flipped the front of the file open and glanced over the paper work. His face blanching of all emotion.

A kid.

Go figure.

After the whole Thanos thing, there had been an influx of children having to go into Hospice because of some disease that had followed them home. But Sam had always done his best to avoid the children that were involved. He couldn't handle the way they had looked at him expecting him to bring them good news—that they had found a cure, that this was all a joke, that they wouldn't die before their parents even had to think about it. The younger ones always accepted it much faster, and the Parents seemed to handle everything after a little better. They'd maybe get a divorce, and sue for custody of another child. But they would be able to continue life like it was normal after a few months, maybe a year. But when it was a teenager, someone who was old enough to understand what was going on; who could feel the injustice of it all...those were the hardest.

"Alright...Peter Parker, let's get this over with."

The kid was nothing like Sam had expected. When he had seen that he was sixteen years old, he had expected a chiseling chin, or strong arms. He had expected probably a football player, or someone just a little more athletic. Instead, propped up on the bed in front of him, was a child that had no doubt been subjected to bullies for a good chunk of his life. His cheeks were slightly rounded, his jaw was still in the process of defining itself.

And had it not been for the way that purple seeped up the veins in his arms, or the blue tint to his lips, Sam would have thought he was a fairly healthy teenager that was simply sleeping. But the further in he stepped, the more medical equipment came into view; and with the medical equipment came a visitor that Sam wouldn't have expected in his wildest dreams.

* * *

Tony Stark was supposed to be the most uncaring man on the Avengers team. He had proven, time and again, that he had never been good at putting others before himself. And up until a certain teenager entered his life, why should he? He had tried with Pepper, and it had either backfired or took off, but it was a roller coaster. One day he was a good Tony, and the next she was angry with him for something he honestly couldn't recall. But the kid had always looked up to him no matter how bad he had screwed up. And that honestly meant more than the Avengers Initiative had.

But it also meant that he had to keep the kid hidden from the rest of his group. They couldn't know about the teenager that had grown on his heart like a damned tumor. Because then they would know that Tony Stark could care about someone that wasn't himself. It would give them cause to believe that he actually had a heart. And that was information privvy to only those closest to him.

So when he was visiting his kid in that damned white washed room and none other than Sam Wilson—THE fucking Falcon—walked in, carrying that folder in his hands…

Well Tony didn't really know what to do. He had forgotten, in all of the mess and conglomeration of Thanos and Titan and the fact that his kid had been one of the ones to come back in partial shape, that Sam was a counselor. And of course, at the last minute, he would have switched from PTSD on soldiers to dealing with grief of those who were about to re-enter the soul stone.

"Hello, Mr Pa-" Sam stared at the man before snapping his jaw shut; teeth clacking at the force and surprise. "Tony..."

"Sam..." Tony stared at the man, years of exhaustion and restless nights coming to a head. There were bags upon bags under his eyes, and a sickly yellow hue to his skin. He looked like a father that was waiting with their child while they took their last breaths. "What..." Tony forced the mucus that was building up in his throat to clear away before straightening his shoulders. "What can I do for you, Sam?"

"I...Is..."Sam cleared his own throat, throwing a cautionary glance towards the boy on the bed. He wasn't supposed to be involved personally in any case that he accepted. That being said, he also hadn't known that Tony knew his current patient. "I need to speak with Mr. Parker. I'm his counselor."

"Sorry, he's finally asleep." Tony sighed dragging a calloused hand down his face. "And I'm not waking him up."

"Then maybe I can help you while he's sleeping. I...You can talk to me, Tony." Sam glanced at the man, then back towards the young man on the bed.

"What is there to say about it? The kid has the worst luck..."Tony chuckled bitterly at the idea of Parker Luck. Memories of Peter rolling his eyes as he told Tony about his day in exasperated hysterics. Visions of the teenager flopping into the chair in his lab, while kicking his feet up to complain about whatever happened at school was an emotional coaster for the inventor. "We just have to find out how to get him back on his feet..."

"Tony...Do you know the percentiles on this disease?" Sam pursed his lip. He wanted to be worried about the man before him; wanted to take him to the side and ask him how he's feeling and tell him that he can talk to him and get everything off of his chest. However, before they could make that step, he had to make sure the man understood that the chances of the kid making it through whatever it was that he had was slim.

"I know. But Bruce and I..."

"Can I ask a question?"

"Isn't that part of your profession?"

"Why are you here?" Sam pursed his lips glancing the man over. He hadn't moved back into the compound himself, so he wasn't sure what the dynamics were anymore. But he was still a part of the Avengers—no matter how much the team was dwindling. So he was positive he would have heard somewhere on the grapevine that Tony had a kid.

"Because...He shouldn't be alone." The inventor blanched and focused his visual attention on a spot directly across from him. He was avoiding giving a truthful answer; allowing his mind to naturally block everything that would give him away.

"They won't let him….You know this. So what's the real ans-" Sam was shoved aside by a pushy Italian woman. Her brows were furrowed, and her jaw was gaunt and thin.

"Tony...How is he? Sorry I just got off. I didn't mean to be late." The rather beautiful woman stationed herself in the chair on the other side of the bed. She was wearing scrubs that belonged to the local hospital—probably the one that the boy had come from. Which would mean that if he wanted to, Sam could get the boy's medical records and check into all of his history.

"He's good," Tony nodded towards the woman dragging a hand down his own face. "He's slept through most of the day, and he woke up a little for lunch." The man glanced at the face of the brunette; eyes closed and not even the slightest twitch of sleep.

"Oh," The woman sighed softly, her shoulders slumped forward in defeat. "Well..I guess it's better than the other option." She forced a smile to her lips.

Then it was as if she had just noticed Sam. Her shoulders threw themselves back, as she put on her professional face.

"Oh, oh!" She jerked her hand back, and dusted off the imaginary dirt on her scrubs. "I-I'm sorry, I'm May Parker. Peter's Aunt." She held her hand out for him to shake.

"Pleas-"

"We're leaving." Tony stood, grabbing Sam's hand before the woman had a chance to. "Call me if anything changes." He arched his brow pointedly, and pursed his lips. "And if you need anything May. I'm serious." Brown eyes landed on the Sam—who at this point was so lost that he was sure he needed a map. "You and Me. Let's go." The brunette clapped his hand to Sam's shoulder and ushered him out of the room.

The inventor waited until they were well out of the room before turning on the man he had at one point called a comrade and friend. His lips pursed as he glanced the man over, checking for any bugs or a camera. He glanced around the corner as if someone would jump out and tell him that he had been pranked.

"Who sent you?"

Sam jolted back, hands held up as if Tony had a gun. He had no idea that the man would be at the hospital; hell, he didn't even know the man was back in New York. After the whole Thanos thing, Tony had gone incognito and just disappeared from the team, and from being THE Tony Stark. A place of hospice was the absolute last place he had ever expected, or wanted, to come across the inventor.

"How did you find out?" Tony snapped. His jaw tightened as he stared down one of the few remaining Avengers.

"I didn't..." Sam sighed heavily, dragging his own calloused hand over his face. _Ground yourself, Wilson_. He couldn't expect Tony to keep calm and think rationally if Sam himself couldn't. "I didn't even know you would be here. I was hired to coach people through their emotions while they're..." Sam waved his hand quietly to show he meant the entire ward. "I wasn't...I didn't know you would be here."

"Now you do," Tony sighed, his shoulders slunk forward and for a moment, Steve felt as if he was reprimanding a puppy. "What are you going to do with that information?"

"Tony..." Sam frowned, his brows furrowing together as he stared at the man. Did Tony expect him to sell him out? To tell the world that Tony Stark was mourning the loss of some teenager that had been afflicted by whatever disease had latched onto him in the soul stone. "I wasn't going to do anything. I was assigned here by my boss, they accepted my help. I'm not here to out you, or to find you, or whatever it is that you've got me doing in your head. That's my motif."

"Then what is..."

"To help," Sam reached out and draped a hand over the man's shoulder. "I'm here to listen as the people yell at me until they can't yell anymore. I'm here to help them and their loved ones," Sam pointed his arched brow at the inventor. "Accept what is inevitably coming. I've moved from just a PTSD counselor into a grief counselor. I'm only here to help. And that includes you, if you and that young man are in any way related."

"I...He's...He's just some kid Queens," Tony started, his lips pursing tightly. His chin wobbled as he threw a backwards glance over his shoulder towards the door. "Coffee...Let's...and..."

"Got it." Same nodded ushering the man out the door and towards the silver elevator. "Talk over coffee. If I recall right, you can hardly function without it some days."

"Most days now," Tony chuckled softly. He drug a hand through semi greasy hair as his eyes wandered the white halls. It almost, in a sentimental way, reminded him of the way Bruce had been right after the snap. Sam remembered the countless nights that the scientist had invested in cracking the secrets of the soul stone; while he was trying to reverse it.

"It's understandable...after everything that happened..." Sam sighed, jamming his finger into the button again. His patience for the machine was thin, and veiled only by the anxiety of being face to face with Tony Stark. It was almost incomprehensible how much had changed in the past couple of years. Falcon recalled fighting along side the snarky man as they had taken down the Chitauri, and fighting against him in Leipzig. Sam recalled the way that Tony would fall asleep during movie night because he had spent so many nights before working relentlessly down in the labs.

"Yea..Well..." Tony sighed heavily shoving Sam's finger from the button. "If Bruce and I could figure out how to bring people back...I can figure out how to cure this thing."

"And then what, Tony?" Sam questioned. There was no malice or confrontation lining his voice as there had been the many times before when Sam imagined himself talking to Tony. After all, the man had essentially disappeared when the world needed him the most. "You going to disappear again?"

"What? No," Tony shook his head scrunching his brows down. "I'm going to retire and rewrite my damn will."

That had certainly not been the answer that Sam was looking for. He had expected Tony to scoff, shrug his shoulders, or roll his eyes. He expected him to sigh as if whatever was going through his head was much too complicated for Sam to understand.

"So...you'll go back to normal? Start fighting bad guys again?"

"God no," Tony shook his head as if the conversation was draining all of the energy from him. "I can't do that. I've got to watch out for the kid. If he sees my throwing myself body first into whatever dangers I find...He'll just...He's already..."

"He's already too much like you?"

"Exactly."

"That's not a bad thing Tony..." Sam glanced back at the elevator doors as they finally dinged. They slid open with a hydraulic induced hiss before allowing the men to step on. "I mean...If you do. Ya know? You saved a lot of people, and took a lot of damage. Best of all, is you didn't even give up when the stakes were against you."

"You were a hero, and you still are. There's nothing wrong with that." Sam sighed softly, pushing the button for the bottom most floor. "Still...that begs the question." Sam ignored the way that Tony's shoulders tensed as the doors slid closed. "Who's the kid and what exactly is he to you? You didn't even wait on Steve after the whole ordeal."

"His name is Peter Parker," Tony whispered as if the words were painful for him. "He's sixteen, almost seventeen and he's from Queens. I call him underoos, for short."


	2. Chapter 2

**Survived By…**

 **Part Two**

"Underoos...Like..." Sam stared heavily at the man leaning against the opposite side of the elevator. The silence that followed was suffocating and akward. "Tony..."

"Yes..Like Underoos from Leipzig. Spider-Man...Spider-Kid? Really? He was there for pretty much the whole thing." Tony sighed heavily leaning his head back against the pleather of the cafeteria booth. "He wasn't supposed to get as involved as he had...ya know? He was supposed to stick low, to the local villain. He saved kittens from trees, and helped grandmother's cross streets. Kid would call me every day just to let me know." Tony scoffed, choosing to lean forward, elbows resting on the sticky table. It was so uncharacteristic for the man. He looked, for once in his billionaire life, defeated and broken down.

"So...So he's essentially your kid?" Sam crossed his arms over his chest. He wanted to get the story straight, and get the answers to his questions. But at the same time, his mind screamed at his mouth to slow down and approach carefully. Tony had a lot of issues, and Sam didn't want to be the one to drudge up the ones that dealt with Afghanistan, or anything before Ultron, really. Those weren't Sam's problems, and he hadn't shared in the memories.

"I guess you could put it that way. I had him on the list for inheriting a part of a fortune five hundred company. He could do some good with that brain." Tony hummed, fidgeting with the Styrofoam cup that was dangerously close to full.

"That's..." Sam moved to pinch the bridge of his nose. It was a lot of information to take in; a huge change in his own personal view on the man before him. He had always expected that everything Tony did, he did for himself, or in some off chance that he DID do something for someone else...Well…

Perhaps his entire view on the man was backwards. Perhaps, because he had blindly followed Steve to Leipzig, and had fought tooth and nail against the man, he had missed some surmountable change within him. It was possible, but Sam wasn't a fan of the possible. If only because a lot of the impossible had happened in recent times.

"Look," Sam leaned forward. The motion seemed to scare Tony, who scurried to scoot away from him as if he had just been burned by his words. He was shutting down; everything in the way his eyes glazed over, and the way that he had pursed his lips; his shoulders hunched in as if readying to protect him from an invisible blow. "I'm not...I'm not going to attack you over this. It isn't like that..."

"It doesn't matter," Tony sighed dragging a hand over his face. The inventor, which had seemed so invincible less than a year ago, reminded Sam of the very first time he had met Scott Lang. The resemblance of the broken down and anxious men was astounding.

"But it does."

"It doesn't," Tony snapped pushing the pads of his fingers to his eyes. "It doesn't because no one else can know. Get it? If anyone knows who that kid is...and what he stands for… Or if they found out what he did or what he means to me, that's the end for him."

"I won't-"

"You may not mean to on purpose. But what about accidentally?"

"Tony-"

"No," Tony groaned standing quickly from the booth. The table rocked, and sent the styrofoam cup rocketing over the edge. Amber colored liquid spilled across the floor, following the line of the old linoleum before stopping. "Please...Just take Peter Parker off your list. He isn't going to die anyway."

"Tones-" Sam groaned annoyed as the inventor turned on his foot and stormed off. He would bottle up his problems just like he always had until he was either alone with his own thoughts in his darkest hour, or until Steve talked to him. Which, under the guise, wouldn't be happening at any point in the near future.

The afternoon saw Sam sitting at the table in the compound glancing over his files for the day. Mrs. Foster had been a pleasant visit—as depicted in his notes. She was an elderly lady that smelled of flower perfume and peppermint candies. Instead of trying to dye the gray hairs away, she flaunted them in beautiful hairstyles that she had mastered in her teenage years. She was a kind woman, who had accepted the hand that fate had dealt to her. When Sam had talked to her, she had simply turned the tables and talked about her grandchildren and her great grandchildren. She told him that she had expected them to be sad, but that she didn't want them to mourn forever.

She told him about how her husband had been killed in World War II; a group of Nazi's had stormed the small camp that he had been set up in. And how her son had been forced into Vietnam, and when he returned he wasn't the same. She expressed her worries about him, even though he had long since committed suicide. And when Sam brought it up, she smiled and glanced up at the ceiling as if it held all of the gateway answers she needed.

"Then I guess it'll be a reunion." She had muttered and let her eyes slip closed.

Sam didn't think she would make it through the night.

"Rough day at work?" Natasha's voice broke through his concentration, causing him to jump. Since Thanos' attack, she had changed significantly. Her blonde hair was dyed once more, a stark black to compliment her latest emotions. Her face was more angular and gaunt with the lack of nutrition and sleep.

"You could say that," Sam grunted, shutting the file and sliding it away to the side. "I have a couple of patients I'm pretty concerned about. They're not handling their situation well." His mind flashed back to the way Tony had hunched into himself at the table. He wasn't the man that he had known before Thanos and the snap—no, he was only a shell of that man. But there were several people who were shells of their former selves. In fact, he was currently talking to one. "But how have you been?"

Natasha shrugged silently, finger gliding around the rim of her glass. It was a deflection method; distract the person you were talking to with a seemingly normal motion so that you could switch the topic. Sam had seen people master this expertise. Nat was not one of those people.

No matter how much she liked to pretend that she was a closed book, Sam could read her pages. But that was part of his training as a counselor. Watch the facial expressions, and the way their body reads. If you could master that, you'd never have a failed patient.

It was a process, and Sam had failed many a patients, but he was getting close to mastery. Now he could watch even the most trained assassin and note her nervous twitches, and the small flinches that gave her away.

"I've been," She whispered staring down at her own reflection. "Bucky had an attack today...So..."

"I'm not worried about Bucky," Sam clasped his fingers and leaned forward. "I'm worried about you. You've lost weight, and you spend a lot more time in the gym than you usually do. What's going on?" As a friend, he wanted to reach across the table and squeeze her wrist; comfort her and let her know that he was safe to talk to. But he had to put his professional face on, and squared his shoulders instead because he had to come up with an answer for her problems.

"Just flashbacks..." Natasha sighed dragging her hand through her hair. They caught momentarily on the knots at the end of her curls, before passing through. "The redroom has been on my mind a lot lately...and it's just been hard to get pass it."

"I getcha," Sam nodded urging her on. Her shoulders hunched forward as she exhaled heavily. She knew what he was doing, there was no doubt about it. But she needed it, and deserved it just as much as any of his other patients. "It was a big part of your life before us."

"It was an awful time. But we haven't heard anything from or about Hydra since we came back." Natasha pursed her lips, forming a glare and a resolve as she tilted her tea cup too and fro. The liquid nearly spilled, but she was agile enough to catch it every time. "I've just got this sickening feeling that they're waiting for something." She glanced up, jaw tight with anxiety. "I think...I think they have a plan to bring back the Red Skull."

"No way," Sam shook his head instantly. "They can't do that. He's been gone for a long time. Bucky shot him, remember?" His own jaw tightened at the thought of the red face man coming back. He had heard a lot about the man from Steve and Bucky. The duo had each had a run in with the man, and it wasn't until Aleksander Lukin had given the Winter Soldier direct orders to destroy the man, that they thought they were clear of him. Sam wanted to believe that they hadn't found a way to separate Aleksander from Johann or vice versa. However, with everything that had happened in the past few years, Sam couldn't say he would be surprised if it was something that was happening.

And if it was, they needed to be prepared. They had time now. They could formulate a plan, and a safe fail for if it went to hell before anyone could blink. They didn't need another Thanos, and they certainly didn't need Hydra trying to take over while the world was still trying to rebuild itself and catch up.

"My intuition has never been wrong before. And if it is Red Skull-"

"Red Skull is gone." A firm voice butted in as a thick hand rested on Natasha's shoulder. "Bucky made sure of it after he shot the man." Steve nodded as he collapsed into the chair beside Nat. Her shoulders stiffened just the slightest at his remark, but her face made no change. She was as impassive as ever.

"Steve he still had the cube...You never know." Natasha pursed her lips. She was starting to clam up; her hands squeezed around the tea cup in order to ground her to the situation. No point in her allowing her mind to wander away with ideas and possibilities.

"If he hasn't made an appearance before now," Steve sighed moving his hand from her shoulder to her wrist. "And if he does come back...We'll be prepared either way."

"How? We're a fractured team now," Wanda's voice carried into the kitchen. The youngest of them slumped against the frame of the entry way. Her face was drawn tight, and her red hair was tugged back into a loose braid. The lack of sleep made itself predominant in the dark bags under her eyes. "Clint is back home, and he wouldn't be willing to leave. T'Challa is busy with his own people, and Tony is missing."

It took everything in his power not to mention that Tony was actually in New York; in Queens specifically. He bit down on his cheek, and pursed his lip. He focused his glare on the mug and made sure to school his features into a disappointed scowl instead.

After all, he had promised the man that he wouldn't oust him to the group that would have hunted him down to the end of the world in order to make sure he was okay.

"I think that's enough for tonight," Steve's exhausted voice broke through the melancholic group. "Tony will come around in his own time. He's still trying to cope with everything, just like the rest of us. For now, we should all get some sleep. We can talk more about everything tomorrow." The man's stern blue eyes studied everyone momentarily before settling on Sam.

He simply nodded, and stood gathering his folders before heading off to his own quarters. He wouldn't sleep much, or long. He still wanted to glance over his notes from earlier in the day, but the way that his eyelids were already starting to droop would definitely prevent him.

"Might as well get an early night," He sighed as he changed into a set of flannel pajamas before climbing into bed.

"Good morning Mr. Prince," Sam hummed as he stepped into the man's room. The elder man was sitting up, arms crossed grumpily across his chest as he huffed at the television. For a moment, Sam had to wonder if the man had moved since he left him yesterday.

"Shut up and sit down," The man motioned to the chair beside him. "The damned fool of a president is talking." His gnarled hand waved at the television. His face contorted in annoyance as the man continued with his speech about the rescues and rebuilding funds he was spending. He was urging the people to help, but Mr. Prince was far from convinced. "He's doing it all for a damned show. Man could give a rats ass about the little people. I bet he'll fix up Hollywood and Miami before he even thinks about anywhere else. He's got houses out in them towns."

"You don't have a liking for our current president," Sam noted arching his brow. The man simply scoffed and crossed his arms. He had already said much more than what he was obviously comfortable with. "I mean, I guess I could see why. He didn't send any troops in to help with Thanos, or any of his followers. And two of them were practically on the man's door step."

Perhaps, if Sam could prove to this man that he was on his side, and wasn't fighting against him, it would offer him some comfort. Or if anything, at least get the man to chat with him for the next twenty five minutes and thirteen seconds.

"Meh, that dumbass couldn't swat a fly if it were right on his nose." Prince growled, rolling his eyes. "He's more incompetent than Nixon was, and that man...what's his name? Ross? Man's as useless as a damned sponge! My momma ain't never used no sponge if she had a rag."

Sam felt the chortle rise up his chest just before it escaped his mouth. He couldn't agree more with the man, Ross had proven to be entirely useless during and after the snap. In fact, it was only within the recent month or so that the man had even started helping out with the recovery funds. Sam hadn't even expected that much from the man.

"That is a wonderful euphemism." Sam grinned as he hitched his legs up to the side of the bed. "I like the way your mother thought!"

"My momma was a brilliant woman," Prince boasted, his arms relaxing just ever so slightly. And that was all it took to get the man to go off on his own tangent. He regaled Sam with tales of his mother's mighty wooden spoon, and the way she soothed him after his first break up. Sam learned that he had a daughter who had died of cancer, and a son who had been shipped off to war, just as he had, and who hadn't come back at all. He was, essentially, alone in the world and he was miserable. However, when asked, Prince commented that he wouldn't do anything again. Because he was proud of his children and of their struggles, and how they over came them. He was proud he had been able to keep himself sober after his daughter's funeral, but he fell back into alcoholism when he received that dreaded yellow letter in the mail. And when his wife was taken from him by a stroke in the middle of the night, well...He was proud that he had even lived through that.

"Life is about lessons," Prince spat as he finally turned the television off. "You can only learn what you want to from any given instance. But that don't mean your livin' your life wrong." His voice cracked at the end, and Sam did his best to ignore the tears that build up behind his eyes because if he didn't, he didn't think he'd be able to make it through his day.

"I think that's a beautiful way of looking at it," Sam nodded as he checked his watch. "I best be going. It was wonderful talking to you today." He smiled at the man before reaching his hand out. But the older man wasn't fooled. He didn't reach back, because reaching back would mean he was accepting his fate.

Outside, Sam stared down at the file for his next patient.

Peter Parker.

The only note that Sam had been able to make from the day before was that the boy knew Tony Stark in some way, and that Tony was beside him on a regular basis. He had also made a note that the kid had an aunt that was beside him when Tony wasn't.

He recalled the conversation about Spider-Man, but that didn't explain much to the man. He could link Spider-Man to Peter Parker, but honestly he didn't want to pry too much. He had already scared Tony off once, and he didn't know if he'd be able to bring the man back around if he did it again.

After all, Tony had basically begged him not to visit Peter anymore, but that went against his duties as the kid's counselor. And he wouldn't give up on him before he even got a chance to say hello.

"Let's try this again," Sam sighed, inhaling deeply to calm his afflicted nerves. "Mr. Parker," He called, rapping his knuckle against the door, pausing only momentarily before entering the room. The kid was in the same position as the day before. There wasn't much of a difference in his complexion, but the telling sign of the darkening of his veins crept up his arms. The tell tale purple hue had taken over his finger tips as well. Sam had seen the signs before, and he knew that the kid didn't have much longer. Once the patient reached the point where their appendages began to turn, it was only a matter of time before the oxygen depleted completely.

"Hello," He called quietly into the room.

"One second!" A voice replied just as the door to the bathroom opened. "Sorry, sorry, was just putting my hair up!" The brunette Aunt stepped out, her fingers deftly working her locks of hair into a bun that she pinned into the top of her head. "Oh," She paused in her ministrations. "Hello."

"Hello," Sam nodded holding his hand out in greeting. "I'm Sam Wilson, the grief counselor."

"Ah," The woman nodded placing her hand gently in his before squeezing politely. "I'm May Parker, his Aunt." She threw a glance over her shoulder towards the young man, sleeping heavily on the white bed. "He uh...He isn't awake...Should I?"

"No, no," Sam shook his head quickly. The idea of forcing the kid to wake up while his body struggled to heal itself didn't sit well with him. And it wasn't as if he was only there to serve the kid. He was there to help the entire family, and anyone directly involved. If his Aunt wanted to use his services, then he would be more than happy to supply them for her. "I'm here for everyone. I'm here if you need to talk, or if any of his visitors need someone to listen."

"Oh," May whispered quietly. Her shoulders hitched as she squared herself off. She wasn't ready to accept that the hospital thought it would be beneficial to her to have someone like Sam. But, he watched as she took a second to really consider the benefits; weigh the pro's and con's of opening herself up to someone. She had probably done it to Tony at some point, just as Tony, Sam imagined, had done to her. After all, there was nothing more binding than the loss of someone so special to either one of them. It was probably the only reason he even kept in touch with his sister.

"You don't have to talk to me," Sam smiled in the most comforting way he could manage. "But I am allotted to listen to anything you have to say or not say for the next half hour."

May chewed along the bottom of her lip as she collapsed into the chair across from her nephew.

"His name is Peter Benjamin Parker. He was four years old when he came to stay with my husand and me," May glanced towards the teenager, reaching her hand out to squeeze his.


	3. Chapter 3

**Survived By…**

 **Part Three**

By the time that Sam had left the Parker room, his sides were sore and there were tears pooling the corner of May's eyes. But the rosy tint to her cheeks, and she way her chest still bounced with the silent giggles left Sam feeling as if he had done some good for the day. It was a rare feeling to come across in his line of work—what with all of the death that he oversaw on a daily basis.

It was in high spirits that he stepped into his office in the compound. It had been a good day in all honesty. He had yet to hear from Tony, not that the man had promised. But Sam honestly thought it would do the inventor some good to have someone he could talk to. After all, after the death of his nephew, and then his own departure into the world of war and gunning men down, Sam had felt alone and useless. Until he had met Steve Rogers.

Steve had always been a close and precious friend to him. The man had been sure to be there for a lot that had happened in his life.

Sam had just gotten back from a tour of duty over seas, and he had been stuck in his own head. He had tried going to the groups, and participated in activities. And it worked while he was there. But then he had to go home to an empty house with photos of his nephew plastered all over the wall, because they had been close. Incredibly close. It had nearly killed Sam when he found out the kid had been infected with HIV. He hadn't been forward about how he had contracted it, only that he had it.

It had limited his time, and at that point in his life, Sam didn't have a lot of time to give to people. He was busy with his training, and everything involved in being a military man.

And when he had passed, alone in a dark hospital because his mother was too distraught to stay, Sam had taken a turn for the worst. Because if his own sister couldn't be there, then he should have been. He should have held his nephew's hand while he suffered on in silence. After all, it wasn't as if his nephew had kept him in the dark about all of shit he had gone through. It was painful to watch him treat the yeast infections. And it was as if he had a new bruise every day, and he was never able to remember exactly where he had gotten it.

But Sam hadn't been there, and Jim had passed alone in the middle of the night.

Some days, Sam wondered if he had recovered from his grief. However, grief is an emotion that follows a person through their life. It doesn't stop at one point, and the world doesn't magically get better. There are some times, like tonight, where Sam finds himself reaching for a hidden liquor bottle just under his desk to help himself feel better. And who would blame him?

It wasn't as if he hadn't done his best for society. He had, after all he was Falcon. He flew over the city of New York on mechanical wings, swooping in and rescuing people from themselves. And when he wasn't Falcon, he was Sam Wilson, grief counselor.

Sometimes, the man sighed pushing his face into his hand, it got to be too much, and he just needed a break.

"Sam?" A voice broke through his repetitive reverie. The man looked up, and was surprised to find Tony Stark standing in the doorway to his office. His arms were crossed over his chest, and he looked exhausted and broken down. He looked like someone who wasn't sure that this was the best decision they ever made, and that simply wasn't the Tony Stark that Sam knew. "You uh...I don't do this whole..." Tony waved his hand, unsure of what word he was looking for. "Whole emotion thing….But you seem upset."

Sam scoffed slightly, as he stared at the man.

"You don't really do emotions at all," Sam grouched, curling his own shoulders in. It was a defensive posture, he knew. And he didn't have a reason to try and protect himself from Tony, but the comfort was there and Sam needed it.

"You're right," Tony nodded quietly, uncrossing his arms to shove his hands into his pockets. Everything about his posture screamed with a lack of confidence. "I don't. But you do, and sometimes you need someone to talk to." Tony took a cautious step into the office, before sliding the door shut behind him. "I may not be Captain America, but believe it or not, I can listen too."

"Can you?" Sam bit back pushing face into his hands. A small jab of guilt filed into his chest, but he couldn't let it fan and grow. "Because you kind of just disappeared after Thanos. The entire team looked for you...do they even know you're here?"

"No," Tony shook his head quietly. "Well...Bruce does. But things changed, Sam." The man sighed and collapsed into the chair across from him. His shoulders relaxed as he leaned back, his head rested against the soft cushion of the chair. "It's nothing against you or the avengers. But I can't be seen in public with the kid in the shape he's in. I didn't just up and run, or abandon anyone. You guys weren't HERE."

"But we were," Sam whispered, his brows furrowing as he tried to visualize the picture Tony was painting. After the snap, everyone had gone back to New York to try and figure out what to do. How were they to reverse the effects of the stones? How would they bring back everyone that Thanos had taken from them? Tony had been there in the beginning, Sam would note. He had seen the man vigorously working away hours, days, weeks in his lab as he ran test after test on how to take down the Titan. "You were so focused..."

"I had someone I needed to bring back. He wasn't even supposed to be taken," Tony whispered staring at the ceiling. "He wasn't supposed to be attached to that stupid ship, and he was supposed to land safely after the suit got him," Tony swallowed hard as he stared at the ceiling. "It...The kid..."

"The one at the hospital?" Sam whispered glancing up miserably at the scientist. "The one you don't want me talking to, or about."

"Exactly," Tony nodded quietly. "Peter...Pete. Underoos, Spider-ling." Tony closed his eyes as his body gave in to the position. He seemed to sink heavily into the plush chair that he had provided for Sam's use. "He's my kid...not biologically..."

"But close enough," Sam frowned staring at the man. "And when he disappeared with the snap..."

"It broke me. He...He fucking apologized, Sam. He was dying and turning to dust and he turned to me and said I'm sorry." A tear slipped from Tony's eye as he relived the memory. It would stick with him, Sam didn't doubt, until the day the man passed on. Similar to the way that Jim had smiled at him at his birthday just three days before he had passed. Sam had known he wasn't feeling good, but he hadn't imagined it had been that bad. And he regretted not asking if he really needed to go to the hospital.

"I...I can relate. Not in the sense," Sam choked on his words as he stared at the picture on his desk. "Not in the sense of a father," The words worked their way into a knot just below his vocal chords. "But my nephew..."

Tony nodded in understanding. He had heard of Sam's nephew from Bruce. They had worked together in the early stages of Bruce's career, but he had passed away before he could get anything published.

"Yea...Kind of like that? So I just...I have to make sure he's taken care of. And that means, for the time being..." Tony pursed his lips. If he were honest, it was probably killing the man to take a step back from the Avengers. Sam knew all about his guilt complex and his self sacrificing ways.

"I get it," Sam nodded dragging a hand over his face. He felt defeated and drained after the day. The feeling of success had fled his bones, and left him with an overwhelming sensation of drowning. Sometimes, the brain was amazing in the way it created dopamine and serotonin, and how one would win one moment but in the next it was completely over powered. "I do...But they at least-"

"No," Tony shook his head agressively. "Absolutely not. Not until we've got this whole thing figured out. They'll want to visit, and not all of them are capable of making sure they're not followed. Also, it would be weird if suddenly the kid started getting visits from the Avengers. Tony Stark is bad enough," A hint of hysteria had inserted itself into his voice. Tony was close to the edge of breaking, and Sam wasn't sure if he could handle whatever it was that Tony would tell him tonight. Seflish, as it may be, Sam needed his own break away from work.

"I already promised I wouldn't tell them," Sam muttered staring at the file on his desk. "But I can't not do my job either." He whispered brushing a hand over his head. "You're stuck with me as a grief counselor until one of two things happen."

"And one of those things absolutely will not happen. Bruce and I are getting close...We've almost figured out if it's a virus or microbial or if it can be treated with a type of medication, or if radiation affects it..." Tony sighed heavily and stares at the ceiling. "We could find a cure that could fix everyone. It could save everyone who came back afflicted..."

"That's noble," Sam nodded, biting his lip thoughtfully. Tony was, if not anything else, a noble man. He had started out in the weapons industry. But that was also where his father had ended his legacy. Tony wasn't really sure how to run a company back then, nor was he mentally capable of doing so. He was known as the playboy philanthropist at the age when he had taken over.

"Is it? I wouldn't have looked into it as much if it hadn't been for the kid. Bruce is the one who's been adamant about getting it out to everyone."

"You're still providing your money and own time to it. That's something."

"But it's nothing in comparison. It isn't enough until I see his eyes open up, or until I can see him hug his aunt again."

"Think of all the families you'll be helping, too. A lot of research starts off out of selfishness, Tony. And it's okay to be selfish every once in a while."

"Not in our line, it isn't. Selfishness claims lives, and causes problems."

"Tony," Sam sighed softly. He felt for the man, but he hated to run in circles with someone who claimed they were so smart. "I...I'm tired. We should get some rest. Maybe you could join the team for breakfast tomorrow."

"I can't," Tony shook his head, not moving an inch. He was more the content to wallow in the pity that he had made for himself.

"You don't want to...You don't feel like you deserve to," Sam pushed, leaning forward to rest on his elbows instead. "But you do Tony. We're your friends-"

"Funny word," Tony snorted, rolling his eyes into the back of his head. A pang of guilt shot through Sam's chest because Tony wasn't exactly wrong. They had all turned their back on him when he was only doing what he thought was right. They hadn't taken time to discuss it, simply acted like a bunch of teenagers and jumped on a band wagon because neither side understood the other.

And in the end, they drifted so far apart that Sam wasn't sure if they'd make it back as a team. He honestly thought that they wouldn't—not until Thanos had landed his ship and it was too late. They hadn't had contact with Tony, and the man was no where on Earth. Pepper had already released a press conference alerting everyone to man's decision to take the armor back up and he had ended up in space heading towards no one knew where.

Then, after Thanos had managed a snap, he had appeared only long enough to help Steve and the group figure out how to reverse it all. And then the damned illness had started popping up all over the globe, afflicting random people who had been to the soul stone.

"Tony," Sam sighed and glanced up, but the man was already half asleep. "Fine," Sam muttered standing to make his way out. He grabbed a blanket that he kept hidden in the cabinet and draped it across the inventor. "Friday, please lock up. Make sure no one comes in while he's asleep."

"Understood, Mr. Wilson." The voice beeped around the room quietly.

The morning came with a depressing down pour. Droplets of rain slapped against the windshield of his car as he made his way back towards the hospital. The coffee he had made himself that morning had yet to kick in, and he hadn't had time to check and see if Tony was still asleep.

"Morning, Sam." Prince called when he knocked on the old man's door. "You look like shit."

"Tell me something I don't know," Sam grumbled as he allowed himself to flop into the uncomfortable chair. He would have to talk to the hospital about investing in quality furniture for the family members that spent a subversive amount of time with the patients. It couldn't be good for the back for them to spend so much time sitting on what could essentially be stone.

"Bah," Prince waved his arms scowling at the television once more. This time, Golden Girls played across the screen. The channel had announced a marathon a few days before, Sam recalled as he watched the girls gawk and squawk at each other. Admittedly, it was amusing, but not enough to keep the man awake. "Thirty minutes." Prince huffed, crossing his arms over his chest and settled in to enjoy the silence that would be left.

Sam didn't sleep, but he did rest his eyes and allow his mind to wonder. When it landed on Underoos and Leipzig. He had let the information roll right over his mind when Tony had blurted it, and he, honestly, hadn't spent a lot of time really thinking about it or focusing on it. After all, he had spent a few weeks completely trying to block the images and memories from his head. He had betrayed his home land in order to follow Steve. He had given up contact with his sister, who he had still yet to try and contact.

And he had fought alongside Bucky when some kid in red and blue—and holy shit!

Sam shot up, eyes wide and chest tight with thought process.

"Holy shit," He gasped out to himself before turning his wide brown eyes up to Marcus Prince. "Holy shit, that kid is Spider-Man."

"What?" Marcus' brows furrowed as he glared at Sam. He was upset that the man had interrupted his show, but he didn't grouch too much about it verbally. "Ain't your ma ever told you to speak up?"

"That...one of my patients," Sam inhaled deeply, forcing the air into his lungs and holding it until he couldn't. Until it burned for release because well, holy shit man. "I am so fucking stupid!" Sam snapped at himself before leaning forward. Now it made sense as to why Tony was so invested; why the man was so concerned about the brunette boy that slept constantly just down the hall. He had been a rock for Tony when no one other than Pepper could.

"Hey!" Marcus snapped, still unaware of the pure shock that was taking over Sam Wilson. "Watch your damned language kid!" Sam stared at the man unsure if he was being serious or if it was all a joke. But his mind couldn't even process that because god damnit! Spider-Man was a kid; like a kid kid!

And not only was he a kid, he was a kid that had gone toe to toe with Titan. He had lost, ultimately. He had been sent to the soul stone, and upon his return he had brought whatever was in his system. And he was a god damned kid.

Sam knew when they were fighting originally that the Spider-Man was far less man and far more kid. He ran his mouth too much, and his pure excitement to even meet them was extraordinary. The way he moved and bounced with energy were all indicative. But he had been so focused—they had all been so focused—on getting Steve and Bucky out of the way that he hadn't paused and took it in.

"S-sorry," Sam stuttered, forcing himself to relax back into the chair. His fingers almost dug rips into the fake leather as he stared straight ahead. His mind struggled along, doing its best to put piece and piece together.

"Bah," Prince growled, eyeing the man quietly before turning back to his show. His arthritic finger reached for the volume button, turning it up only slightly. Just enough for him to get the point across to the man joining him that he wasn't looking for any type of communication. He only wanted to see and hear the scenes that played out across the television. Had his mind been working its regular circuit, Sam would have noted the behavior. He would have linked it back to Marcus' lack of acceptance.

However, it seemed as though everything was quickly turning out to be too much, and the anxiety was building and bubbling just under the surface of his skin. He could feel the heat that it oozed, and the pain as its fingers wrapped around his lungs.

"I'll be in the hall," Sam muttered grabbing his bag and rushing out. There was no way he would be able to perform his duty properly without talking to Tony. He had to make sure he had reached the proper conclusion, and that it wasn't his own mind running off of fumes that connected dot a to point b.

His finger slammed down on the green phone button as he held the mobile to his ear. The other line rang three times before an exhausted voice answered the other end. So he hadn't slept much, or he had managed to sleep well into the day and Sam had just woken him up. Either way, Sam didn't find himself caring too much.

"He's Spider-Man," Falcon hissed into the phone.

"Yeah," Tony sighed on the other end. Sam could just imagine the way that Tony drug his hand through his hair, before bringing it down his face to settle on pinching his nose. The man was stressed and distressed. He was struggling on his own, and he had leaked just enough information for Sam to connect the dots. Why it took his mind thirty-six hours to do so, Sam wasn't entirely sure.

"Jesus christ," Sam whispered from his own end. He glanced around the hallway, making sure no one was listening in before deciding it would be best to slip into a supply closet. "Tony he's just a kid."

"He was a kid at Leipzig too," Tony hummed. He didn't sound immediately regretful, but Sam knew he was. Sam knew he hated that he had to play responsible party to a teenager. Hell, Tony hadn't even played responsible party to his own teenage years, how had he managed to do so for someone as young as Peter?

"Yea I know, you had mentioned before."

"You're just putting it together?" Tony sounded genuinely confused by the statement. "I basically-"

"I know, Tony, I know!" Sam groaned sliding against the only free wall. His eyes bounced from packets of gauze to boxes of needs and glucose strips. In the corner was a box of vials that the nurses would use to draw and store blood until it could be sent off to the lab. "I know what you said. Believe it or not, I do listen to what my patients say."

"I know," Tony sighed exasperated.

"Tony...The others-"

"Will know when its time. For now, just let the kid rest. He needs it," Tony whispered. "Besides, he'll be so excited to finally meet everyone once he wakes up, ya know?"

"I know, Tony, trust me. But this...The team deserves to know."

"And they will once I get it all figured out."

"Tony-" Sam growled as the line died.


	4. Chapter 4

**Survived By…**

 **Part Four**

Sam couldn't focus after the phone call. His mind rushed in every direction, and he was very close to telling his superior that he needed to go home. He needed to sit down and try to talk some actual sense into Tony, because caring for a teenager is one thing. Caring for a teenager with super powers that he brought to Germany is an entirely different thing.

Sam wouldn't have minded so much had the kid just been a normal intern. For all Sam knew, he could have been Tony's long lost son, or some ex-communicated family member. That would have made enough sense. Tony kept his family as separated from his life as he possibly could. He didn't invite them over for Christmas, and he didn't send out birthday cards or gifts, or get well soons.

His heart was pounding in his chest as he glanced at the door, debating heavily on if it would be safe for him to try and continue. Especially with Peter Parker being his next patient.

But he had a job to do. He'd give himself another five minutes to catch his breath and calm his heart before making his way out and down the hall. He would walk into the room and-

And probably start panicking again because he'd have the guilt of hitting the child in Leipzig, and his Aunt would be sitting right there putting all of her faith and trust into him.

"Damnit, Stark," Sam muttered dragging his hands over his head. He'd have to leave the supply closet at some point, otherwise it would be weird if a nurse walked in on him trying to keep himself calm. "Breath, Sam." He grouched, inhaling to the count of three and holding it for the count of three. It was a calming motion that he had learned while on duty. Of course, sometimes he'd have to breath in longer and hold longer, but he'd been pretty quick to figure that out. "Okay, You got this." He reached for the handle of the door, remembering his deep breaths.

"Okay, you got this." He nodded to himself before stepping out into the hall. The nurses posted at the station didn't even spare him a glance. Sam couldn't say that he was stressed about their nonchalance. He aimed his feet towards the southern end of the hall, and began his trek towards Peter Parker's room.

He rapped his knuckles against the wood as he had a few times before. No point in showing up and surprising anyone in the room.

"Hello Mr. Parker," Sam forced a calm demeanor as he stepped into the room and met the largest brown eyes he had ever seen. Jesus, was this kid's mother the same mom to Bambi? Because he was getting some serious Disney vibes.

"Oh, uh...um..Hi," Peter waved awkwardly. His voice was breathless, as if it were hard for him to breath. Judging by the tubes hooked up to him, and the bluish tinge to his lips, it probably was. His face was slightly gaunt, and Sam could tell that at one point he had nice rounded cheeks, and he didn't look as hollow as he did currently. However, what got to him the most was the amount of purity and life that filled his doe like eyes.

"Hello, Mr. Parker?" The kid nodded quietly, glancing towards his aunt for answers, comfort, and permission. His guard was up, and he was unsure of everything around him. Sam was pretty sure he could relate. He had taken a hit to the head at a Hydra event one time, and was down for seventy-two hours. When he woke up, he was confused and unsure as to what day and year it was.

"I..uh yea? Y-You can...You can just call me Peter." The kid waved awkwardly. And if Sam had any doubts that this was the kid from Leipzig...well it was certainly gone now. He had seen the unsure way that the kid had greeted Captain, and the mannerisms certainly matched everything that he had noted about Spider-kid. His wrist waved kinda limply and uncertainly, and his eyes kinda darted over to his Aunt.

"Alright," Sam smiled softly stepping closer to the edge of the teenagers bed. "Hello, Peter."

"You're the Falcon." Peter rasped heavily. The excitement was still in his voice, he just sounded as if he had been smoking for a good all of his life. Although, if what little he had been told by Tony was true, then the kid probably hadn't even picked up a smoke in his entire eight years on the planet.

"On my good days," Sam nodded glancing towards his Aunt. The woman was curled into a ball on a recliner that Tony HAD to have bought for the woman. Her eyes were shut, but Sam could tell from the way that she was breathing that she was listening to every word that slipped out of his mouth. She was waiting for him to say something that would upset her nephew; her muscles tense and willing to pounce. "However, today I am just Sam Wilson. Grief Counselor."

"Right," The kid whispered, eyes rolling to stare at the roof instead of him. "Because I'm dying again, right?" He turned his head and coughed into his elbow. The sound rattled inside of his chest, and took its own toll on his body. Trembles began in the tips of his fingers and worked their way up his arms. "Mr. Stark won't admit it."

Sam threw a glance at his aunt, who, to be fair, was acting as if she weren't listening pretty well. Yet, he knew she was hanging onto every word that was being said. If he were completely following HIPPA laws, he would have asked her to leave, or asked Peter if he was okay with her being there.

"He has a hard time with death," Sam nodded his head. His shoulders were tense. Was he saying the right stuff? Would he be able to prompt Peter into a comfortable stance with his impending doom?

Sam had helped kids before; he wasn't completely new to listening to their horror stories. But he hadn't ever helped someone he was indirectly related to. He knew that if he wanted to, if it made him too uncomfortable, he could pass the kid off to one of his co-workers. He could talk to the head of the ward and let them know that he knows Tony Stark, and Tony knew the kid. But he felt too involved now.

Tony had come to him, and opened up, even if it was only minutely. From his experience with the man, that was a huge compliment to his trust, and his capability. Tony trusted him enough to open up just a little. Or was Tony just that close to the edge that he was entering a dangerous zone?

"Whatever it is," The kid hummed, allowing himself to flop back into the bed. His shoulders sagged as if he had been forcing himself to stay up; like he was relieved of a huge weight. "You're over thinking it."

"Huh?" Sam's own brows furrowed in confusion.

"Mr. Stark gets that same look," Peter smiled politely. His head flopped back against the pillow, and it wouldn't be much longer before he would fall asleep. "When he's overthinking I mean. I know he does it a lot. Especially, lately."

"How does that make you feel?" Sam flinched at the generic question. He couldn't recall the number of times he had heard it asked in stupid movies, or how many times it had been thrown around in reference to okay questions to ask.

The kid blinked at him, as if trying to process the stupid question. Sam couldn't exactly blame him. He would probably do the same thing.

"I...I guess it makes me a bit sad?" Peter bit his lip and threw a glance towards his Aunt. His lips pursed as he took a moment to think it through. It seemed as if he was as aware that his Aunt was listening as Sam was. All the par of Spider senses, Sam surmised. "I mean...I hate that he feels like he has to find a cure..." The kid sighed heavily and leaned his head back, giving up on shooting wary looks at May. His doe brown eyes closed, and for a moment, Sam worried that he wouldn't open them again.

"I mean," Peter hummed staring at the ceiling. "I mean I hate that he feels responsible for my life. It shouldn't be on his shoulders. None of this is his fault, just like none of this was May's fault. I caught something in the Soul Stone. It happened," Tears built up in the corner of his eyes. "It sucks, and I hate that I'm going...to ya know...again? But at the same time, I'd rather it be me than someone else?"

"Do you remember anything about being inside of the soul stone?" Sam clenched his jaw shut. It was a sensitive topic, from his experience with the few other people he had been assigned. His eyes widened slightly, and his shoulders went taught.

"A little," Peter glanced at the man. His eyes were draining of energy, any pallor that he had was slipping away. A small streak of purple was fading its way up a vein in his face. "We got picked for the fate that we received," He whispered staring at Sam. "We got sent back with a time limit, because you need us."

"And we do," Tony's voice cut through the room, stabbing Tony in his heart just a little bit. He felt bad, because Tony wasn't particular to the idea of him talking to Peter about much of anything. "We absolutely do need you, Underoos." The man buzzed as he pushed around Sam, and forced his way into the seat on the opposite side of the bed. "Great to see those bambi eyes open and aware." The inventor smiled to the teenager; paternal unease seeping into every physical feature in his body.

"Good to see you too," Peter smiled, his cheeks flushing with effort. "Mr. Stark." His head nodded forward, and whether was of his own volition, or the lack of oxygen getting to his muscles from his exertion, Sam wasn't sure.

"Take a minute kid," Tony reached for a plastic mask, hidden by a hook just to the kid's left. His fingers grasped around the material before bringing it to the kid's face with a practiced skill. "Breathe in and hold it for five. Gotta let that great oh-two get into your system." Tony watched for a moment, before he was pleased with the breath that Peter had taken in. "When you're better kid, I am moving you, May and Happy into the damn compound and putting you inside a containment center."

"I can agree with that," May yawned from her spot. She stretched her arms over her head before unfurling her legs from their cramped position. "I'm okay with never letting him out again."

"Trouble would still find him," Tony grimaced, leaning his head back against the chair. "We're getting close to fixing the problem though."

Sam could hear the relief in his voice. In fact, he should have noticed it earlier. Stark was breezier than he had been, his shoulders looser, his movements less controlled and forced. He and Banner must have had some kind of a break through.

"Yeah?" May perked up, her slightly drowsy eyes brightening with the prospect. She glanced to her nephew, who was following the conversation with his eyes but still forcing deep breaths into his body. A slight tinge of pink had begun to invade the corners of his lips. "What's causing it?"

"Microbials," Tony sighed heavily, dragging a hand over his face. He let it rest for a moment, but when he pulled it away there was a small smile on his face. "Kid caught an infection in the soul stone and brought it home. We're working on figuring out if its viral, or just bacterial. Good thing is, now that we know it's an infection and what's causing your cells to eat its own oxygen supply, we can come up with a way to treat it."

"That's good," The kid gasped a bit. His words were raspy and rattled around in his mouth as if they were choked by mucus. "That's super awesome, Mr. Stark."

"Congrats To-" The watch face on Sam's smartwatch screeched with the ringtone that Steve had set for emergencies. He turned to Tony, sending a glance at his watch, but there was no change to the face. He debated momentarily, if he answered the call in the room, he could expose Tony. He could tell Steve that the man was safe and had been living under their noses the entire time; he could tell Natasha that he hadn't abandoned them when they needed him, but he was protecting someone who needed it more.

"Sam," Tony whispered, eyes glancing quickly to the watch. "Outside...Please."

Sam simply nodded, leaving his bag and shutting the door behind him. He would let Tony come back to the group in his own time. It would go against his better judgment as a counselor to force the man back into his work load before he was truly ready.

"What's up Cap?" Sam accepted the call, allowing the camera to view his destination.

"Where are you right now?" Steve frowned, his brows drawn tight as he looked at his team mate. His eyes were wild with worry and anxiety. Something bad was happening.

"I'm at work. What's going on?" Sam glanced around to the nurses that were currently watching him. He waved at them, before slipping into the bathroom—the only place that he could get any kind of peace and quiet and privacy.

"Nat was right," Steve growled dragging a hand over his face. "Red Skull is back, he was spotted yesterday in Miami after a lightening storm." When his hand came away, Sam could see the red invading his scleroses. If he was the Hulk, Sam would have seen green inching its way up his neck. Still, it was a worrying sign.

"Jesus," Sam whispered, digging the nails of his free hand into his palm. A whole new anxiety settled over his chest as he though of the implications. If Red Skull hadn't been killed—which if the articles were right, then he hadn't been—what was his motive? Hydra was all but a memory now, in the past months Steve and Bucky had seen to the organization's downfall. That didn't mean that there weren't people who didn't still believe in their ideals, though. People all over wanted power now that the world was still only relatively stable in its political prowess. Hell, last time he had watched the news, China was trying to invade Japan, but hadn't been successful. It would be nothing for a man like Red Skull to take that aggression and aim it in a different direction. "What do we do?"

"For now? Wait. He disappeared immediately after the sighting. We can only assume he's going under cover in an attempt to rebuild Hydra. Natasha, Vision, and Wanda are keeping an eye on reports. Bucky's in his room. He wants to go into cryo until this is figured out."

"Cryo? Why?" Sam startled when the door to the bathroom opened slowly and Tony stepped through. The man held a finger to his lips, pointing at the watch.

'Just checking,'The inventor mouthed before settling in the corner of the bathroom. His own brown eyes kept throwing glances towards the right hand wall, but Sam wouldn't mention it.

"He's worried that Red will come back for him." Steve grunted, grinding his teeth down onto each other. "The worst part is, he's not wrong to be worried. Natasha is trying to get Banner away from whatever project it is that's he working on to get him to activate it. But he locked himself in the damn lab."

"Leave Banner alone," Sam sighed leaning against the white wall that he was sure was probably contaminated with some kind of disease. "He's trying to come up with a cure for one of my patients."

"One of your patients?" Steve frowned, dragging his eyebrows down in a whole new type of worry. "What's going on? You never bring work home with you."

"I...It's..." Sam glanced at Tony as if asking for help. Tony sighed heavily, before stepping into frame with Sam.

"Howdy, Cap." Tony waved his hand as nonchalantly as he possibly could. "Sorry, but Sammy here is supposed to be with a certain someone, and I've gotta make sure he does his job. He'll talk back at the compound!" Tony reached forward, sliding the call to end.

"Tony, you didn't-"

"You're right. But the kid can hear us," He rapped a knuckle against the side of the wall. "I'll explain more when we're back at the compound. For now, I need to go make sure the brat is still breathing. You," Tony pointed at the man, some of his confidence was easing back into his words. "You get to go home and tell them not to worry about trying to find me. I don't want them even looking at the kid, if I'm honest. You weren't supposed to see him either...but apparently," The man rolled his eyes. "Fate had other ideas."

"You do realize, they won't let this drop until you're back at the compound, right?" Sam smiled a bit. He knew his team mates, and he knew just how stubborn they could be. After all, Tony had tried to take a break away from them before—several times actually. The man had just wanted to retire, back away from the super hero life so he could focus on Pepper and where his company was going. He had never intended to be a super hero, but Afghanistan had forced it on him. Tony, however, had just taken it with stride; he had stepped into the boots and filled them to capacity. But he would never be allowed to step down from Iron Man. He would have to die in order for that to happen.

"I know," Tony groaned heavily. "Steve is like a dog once he gets just a whiff. Don't remind me, yea?" Tony smiled dragging a hand over his hair. The flush to his cheeks gave him away; his heart was probably thrumming out of his chest. "Now seriously, go before Steve finds out he can track you down. I gotta babysit tonight anyway. Mayday has to work."

"Ya know," Sam whispered glancing towards the room. "Call it a bad decision, but if you and May need a break, I can sit with the kid sometimes too."

"I'm sure, but," Tony shrugged looking for a way to phrase that he didn't want to leave the kid with someone who had hurt him. He didn't want to leave what was probably one of the most precious things in his life alone while they were suffering. Sam was pretty sure that Tony had even illegally installed FRIDAY into the hospital's operating system, but that would be a chastising for another time.

"I'll be back after I calm Steve down. And you will go get a decent meal and buy some better seating for this hospital before coming back and taking up momma bear again." Sam smiled as Tony gaped. His mouth flapped open, and, funnily enough, reminded Sam of a gaping fish.

"Wha-"

"For the patients and their visitors," Sam nodded his head and crossed his arms over his chest. "If these people are...are going to pass...They deserve to do so in comfort."

Tony slapped his mouth shut, teeth clacking together. The man's reaction only added to the amusement.

"Fine," Tony grouched, jerking his phone out of his pocket typing away a message and sending it off before grabbing the handle to the door. "Done. Now go, and when you come back, bring some coffee from the third floor bathroom cabinet. It's the good stuff. I have to hide it from Nat and Bucky."

"You hide coffee in a bathroom?" Sam gaped as the man walked out and turned towards his kid's room in the hallway. "Tony that is absolutely the most disgusting thing. Do you know about the bacteria involved in flushing a toilet!?"

"Do you even know where those coffee beans come from Wilson?" Tony smirked, arching a brow as amusement filled his features. It was a stark difference to the man Sam had talked to only days ago. But maybe it was just a good day; or maybe they really were that close to figuring out how to treat the kid. "Google it! Kopi Luwak!" Tony cackled before disappearing into the room.

Sam waited until he was out of the corridor before whipping his own phone out and googling the coffee.

"The coffee is derived...Ugh!" Sam groaned.


	5. Chapter 5

**Survived By…**

 **Part Five**

Every time he passed that damned bathroom, Sam couldn't help the shudder that trickled its way down his spine. He knew exactly where that disgusting ground coffee was, and he knew exactly how it was made. And every time he went in to work and Tony was there, the guy demanded he bring him some. He'd send him a message as early as five A.M so that Sam wouldn't forget.

Which was how he found himself sitting awkwardly in Peter Parker's room as a guest and not his counselor. The kid was currently doubled over a small table, hand scribbling out numbers on a limp piece of paper that Sam was pretty sure would rip the next time he moved to erase something.

"So..uh...What are you doing?" Sam fidgeted, trying to get some kind of comprehension on the numbers that littered the page.

"Huh?" Peter drug a hand over his face as if he were exhausted. Which, he probably was, if he was judged by the bags under his eyes. "S-sorry Mr. Uh.. Falcon, sir." The kid smiled at him as he drug his hand over the paper again. His brown eyes glanced it over, double checking for some kind of error. "Just some equations for school."

"School? Kid...You're...School?" Sam groaned dragging his own hand over his face. "Kid you are literally-"

"Getting better," Tony hummed choosing the best moment walk in. A pair of expensive sunglasses were currently resting over his eyes as he lowered himself into the chair that May had occupied a few days ago. The steaming cup of water that he had gone to heat up in his left hand rested wearily on the edge of the chair's arm. "His double oh's were up this morning." He shot an award winning smile towards the kid who simply rolled his eyes. "And he's been up for," Tony glanced at his watch dramatically. "Almost an hour now! Congrats kid, you've finally gotten to see the light of day."

"Haha," Peter wheezed sarcastically, shaking his head while pushing the paper away. "I just don't want to fall behind in school." He sighed and stared at the next sheet of paper.

"Kid..I highly doubt the school-"

"That's really responsible of you," Sam stepped in, effectively shutting Tony up. He raised his brows, and widened his eyes just enough to get his point across. He didn't want Tony shutting the kid down when he obviously wanted to be more adult than Tony had ever been.

"Uh..Thanks," Peter nodded bashfully, a rosy tint filled his cheeks. "That's...uh...Hm." He ended lamely, forcing his eyes to stay focused on his paper instead of glancing around at all corners of the room. The boy was anxious, and absolutely unsure of himself and what he was supposed to do. And Sam didn't know whether it was because he was Falcon, and the kid recalled how he had been treated, or if this was just Peter Parker in place of Spider-Man.

"Jeez kid," Tony hummed pushing the kid's shoulder in a playful manner. It was so opposite of what Sam was used to seeing with the inventor, that he almost had to do a double take. "You're way too responsible," The man grabbed the stack of papers from his kid before tucking them away neatly in a backpack by the small counter in the room. "Take the time and relax. Talk to Sam, you'll be seeing him plenty back at the compound."

"Back.." Sam stared the man down. Some moments, it was if the information that had been written in Peter's folder didn't seem to apply to the man sitting across from him. And Sam couldn't figure out if Tony was trying to ignore it, or if he was trying to keep a sickeningly bright outlook on the situation—which wasn't Tony-esque at all.

"Yepp," Tony popped his p's. "We're going to transfer him tomorrow morning. Bruce and I are in the testing phase of the new antibiotic...figured we might as well have the kid near by. Cuts back on the chance of someone else getting their muggy hands on it and trying to copyright it."

"Does this mean I can speak with Dr. Banner? Pick his mind?" Peter chewed at his bottom lip. The prospect of talking to someone the kid had probably considered a hero, too much for him to stay still. His fingers tightened and loosened around the pencil that he still held in his dominant hand.

"I don't know about pick his mind," Tony shrugged, as if deciding to continue with caution or if he should go head strong into what he knows. "But I'm sure he would love to have an intellectual conversation with you. It's not like you're dumb….all the time." Tony snorted rolling his eyes at his own joke.

Peter simply scoffed and crossed his arms as if he was insulted by the snark However, the small glimmer in his eyes proved that he found it just as amusing. It was endearing to watch, but it left Sam feeling a little guilty. It wasn't fair that he got to see a side to Tony that the man had hidden so well from everyone else. It wasn't fair, that Tony had to pretend to be some egotistical asshole, while this kid, Peter Parker, got to see the real Tony Stark—charming father figure.

"I'm sure he wouldn't mind," Sam confirmed nodding his own head. "Bruce likes to have conversations every now and then. And, sometimes, with people that aren't Tony," Sam smirked shooting a wink towards the playfully affronted man. Tony slammed his hand to his chest, and jerked his head back as if he had been burned by the words.

"MY Brucie bear? Are we talking about the same person?" Tony scoffed waving Sam away as if he were a mere peasant. But it was worth it, to hear the gasping laughter of the kid. Sam may not have known Peter for long, and he certainly hadn't shared too many words with him, but he could see how he could rub off on anyone.

"Well...If it's alright, when the transfer goes through, and you get settled in, I would still like to visit you." Sam nodded towards the teenager. The brunette looked at him as if he was a man with three heads, or as if he had just asked him to solve world hunger in thirteen days.

"You wanna visit me?" Wide brown eyes glanced towards Tony, as if asking if it would be okay. The man, who had gone pale and gaunt at the question, clenched his jaw before placing a hand over Peter's. It was a sign of support, he would agree to whatever it was that the kid decided. But, Sam could tell from the small tick just under his eye, and the way that his jugular pulsed just under his jaw line that his anxiety was picking up.

He wasn't comfortable with the idea, because Sam visiting Peter came with the threat of someone else finding out about the kid. Not that it would be possible to keep him a secret for long once he arrived in the tower, but if Peter said no, it would give the duo that much longer to figure it out; to maybe get a cure started so that when Peter was finally introduced to the group, he would at least be able to protect himself a little from the big bad group of returning avengers. Which, if he were truthful, insulted Sam just a little bit. He understood the protective parent bit, honestly he did. But it wasn't as if the Avengers were going to line up and take turns eating a piece of the kid's soul. That wasn't their bit—no matter what that one website said.

"If it's okay," Sam nodded pursing his lip. "You still have a lot to go through, a long way to recovery. I think you'll benefit from having someone to talk to."

The kid's shoulders sagged slightly, and Sam wasn't sure if it was the idea of him visiting at all, or because he was offering only to visit for work—which he would love to visit for something other than work. But as long as the kid was in his vicinity, he had to abide by a certain set of laws that put his health before Sam's friendship. Just like his mandatory reporter conditions, if Sam thought Peter was a danger to himself, or to anyone within his vicinity Sam was mandated to report it to a board that would decide what would be best. And Sam didn't want to make the fact that a kid would be moving into the Avenger's Compound any more public than it had to be. Which, at the moment, was very not public.

"Yea...I guess," Peter shrugged, grimacing at the action before falling back against the bed. "Hey, will Ned be able to visit? I haven't seen him too much," The kid wheezed throwing a glance at Tony. His eyes were slowly starting to gaze over as a sneaking exhaustion set in.

"Not until you get approximately eight more hours of sleep." Tony hummed standing and tugging the blanket up over the kid's shoulders. He tucked the sides under the kid's ribs before stepping back and watching him carefully. It didn't take long for the kid to completely pass out; apparently sitting up and doing homework did that to a person who was still low in oxygen. "Night kid," The older man hummed softly dragging a calloused thumb across the pale cheeks. Peter didn't even flinch.

"You good Tones?" Sam questioned quietly as his friend sat down. A tension began to fill the room as the inventor twitched his leg, deciding that bouncing it up and down would be the better way to go. His shoulders were more tense than when he was trying to figure out Ultron, and his brow was pinched in thought. "Something wrong?"

"I'm a lying liar that lies?" Tony exhaled shoving his face into his hands. "He is being transferred, but only because we don't know anything else about this bacteria and getting the hospital to release blood samples to us when we're not an official medical research facility is getting tiring. I'm moving him closer to help him, but I can't tell him its because I don't know how to fix him. It's my fault in the first place he even had to go into stupid stone. What if I can't fix him? His oh-two stats are all over the place. They were up and fine this morning, but I just had Friday scan him and they're below ninety two...If he drops much more he'll have to go back on the mask."

"So he's fluctuating...It happens. Is he being treated for hypoxia?"

"Yes and no," Tony sighed leaning his head further into his hands. His shoulders began to tremble as he took in deep breaths. "They're giving him the right medications, but it doesn't work on him. His body metabolizes them too fast. And he's trying to heal himself, but whatever this stupid bacteria is...It won't let him. As soon as his body produces the enzyme to fix itself, that...that thing attaches onto it and devours it and uses it against him."

"He's on limited time," Sam gasped a bit. It felt like his own breath had been stolen from him. Before this, he had a slight understanding of how the whole disease was working, but he had never taken long enough to get an inside look at it. He never took a moment to slow down and really look at what it did to his patients, because he had a job to do. He wanted to make sure that they were willing to accept what was coming. And all of them had been accepting. No one had thought to fight it, because they had all been told what was coming no matter what. They had been told that they didn't have a chance. It made it easier to deal with. Watching Tony, knowing the man wanted to find a way to save this damn kid, to bring him back from death for a second time...It was heartbreaking. Sam literally felt his head cave in when the man glanced up at him with tears shining in the corner of his eyes.

"Yea, and I don't know how to borrow him more. So I have to move faster...But I can't help if he isn't in the compound, because he has to have someone with him. He's not considered an adult yet." Tony whispered, casting a glance over the sleeping teenager. "When he's better, you'll love him Sam. He's vibrant, and bright. And he's scary smart. So is his friend Ned—kid rewired and hacked into the kid's suit."

"Sounds like something you would do," Sam chuckled softly watching as the man slipped into his own memories. And he listened. He listened to Tony when he laughed so hard that phlegm had lodged itself into his throat because the kid had been stuck in hello kitty pajamas for a sleepover at the tower before it was sold. And he listened when Tony quietened down and explained the whole Vulture ordeal. And he listened when Tony told the man about how Happy and May had hit it off, and how the kid had loved to bake but he was absolutely awful at it. He listened when Tony explained the first time that Pepper had met the kid and how she had flipped a lid until Peter had turned on the world's best puppy dog eyes. Which Tony had promptly had turned and shown him a picture of. (He was absolutely right too. The kid could get whatever he want with that look.)

"I just...Sam...If this kid doesn't pull through..." Tony gasped heavily sinking forward and into himself. "If he doesn't pull through, I won't be able to either. I lost him once, and you guys were there to catch me. There was hope then. If he's taken away from me this time...There's no...There is no getting him back."

And that's when Sam knew. He wasn't here to help someone accept their death, here was there to prevent two souls from meeting in the after life. He was there to help Tony accept that he may not be able to save the kid, and that it was okay if he couldn't. He was there to help the man understand that just because someone dies, it doesn't mean that they're gone completely.

Then again, the stakes had never been higher for the counselor from Harlem. He had helped save the world a couple of times, and had never felt a pressure such as the one he felt right now staring at a man that he had fought against because someone had told him to.

"Tony...About Leipzig..."

"Don't," Tony cut him off abruptly. "I'm working on fixing it, okay?" He sighed and straightened himself up. All outer appearances switched instantly into Work Mode Tony. His mind had kicked into a completely different gear, and sent his thoughts and emotional progress tumbling into the back of his mind until he felt comfortable unboxing it again.

"Look...Fine, we won't talk about Leipzig, but you gotta know," Sam drug his hand over his face as he stared his friend down. "Steve knows you're alive, and he probably knows where you're at now. He won't bug you, because he'd feel guilty. But that doesn't mean Natasha or Clint won't."

"I know," Tony exhaled deeply through his nose. He closed his eyes slumping back into the chair, defeated. "I know. It's my fault, and I don't know why I did it...but...I just...I don't want him to be alone at any point...And I have to be able to get this figured out. You've got a day job, and so does Nat and Clint. And the kid will be so confused if he just wakes up and Steve is there...and maybe for a moment I just didn't think."

"He's not angry with you," Sam interrupted, eyes downcast to the floor. He searched every crack and crevice in the linoleum, spending only a second to wonder how much bacteria had lodged itself in the area that didn't get cleaned. "He's not, and if you explained to him how important Peter was to you...He would get it. Bucky was the same to him, he was blinded by his desire to protect his best friend."

"It's not the same," Tony growled leaning forward. "I get that his friend was more important than anything. I get it now, but Bucky is an adult who made some of his own decisions. I get that he was under mind control when he killed my parents, that's whatever." Tony waved his hand dismissing a problem that was obviously still a tender spot for him. "I just… I know that Red Skull is back and it makes Bucky that much more dangerous to my kid right now. And if Red Skull found out because he brainwashed the snowflake for information...I wouldn't hold back from killing him to protect Peter."

"I...I get it," Sam nodded clearing his throat. He wanted Tony to think he was on the same page, but there was a fierce determination there that Sam had never seen before. A protectiveness that resembled that of an angry mother bear. And Sam would be damned if he didn't think it fit the man sitting across from him. "I get it, and I won't stop you. Hell, if the time comes, I'll help you. But until then, if the Red Skull attacks, we'll need your help to take him out too."

"And that means leaving Peter alone sometimes," Tony ground his jaw together. He was visibly uncomfortable with the thought of leaving Peter behind.

"No," Sam shook his head and smiled softly. "You wouldn't have to leave. Your suits can be remote controlled right? You could fight from the living room."

Tony jerked his head up staring at Sam as if he had just launched an alien bug at him—which was how he knew what the look even resembled. (Chitauri still haunted his dreams.)

"I...Huh," Tony drug his hand over his goatee bashfully. He had never even thought of that. It hadn't crossed his mind since the ferry incident of Peter Parker Screws the Pooch. And with the Vulture locked up, and Pepper taking over most of the work for the company after meeting Peter...Well...Tony had been there for everything that Pete had gone through.

"I thought you were supposed to be a genius," Sam chuckled leaning back in his chair to stare at the ceiling. His mind wondered around the world before settling on his nephew. His eyes darted to the small body resting on the bed, and he wondered. Is that what Jim looked like when he knew his time was coming? He imagined all of the IV's hooked up to his nephew, and how his niece would never know who her brother was. He recalled how he had thrown his papers, and flipped his table, and drunk so much alcohol by the time the news had gotten to him that he wasn't sure how he had been allowed to board the plane. "I can say...it does get easier." He whispered, completely unsure if Tony had heard him or not.

And he found that he didn't care if he did or not. At least, not physically. Because he could feel Tony's unwillingness to accept them metaphorically. But Sam needed to let him know that it got better, that he could breath and take it one day at a time, one emotion at a time. Sam needed to let him know that the loss always hurt, but he didn't have to dwell on it and lose himself to it. He needed to let Tony know that he didn't have to break because Peter wasn't there, but he could build himself up in his memory and be everything that the kid had ever wanted him to be.

That was why he had become the Falcon. His nephew had been enamored with Captain America and how he had gone around at one point saving civilians, and how he had thrown himself onto dangerous train after dangerous train just so he could have the chance to save someone. Jim loved that the man was so devoted to his country and his morals that he would give himself up rather than lose them. And that's why he had become the man he had.

That was why Sam had jumped first from the training platform. That was why, when he was approached by Tony and Steve to try out the wings, he had accepted. And that was why he still found himself waking up every morning with the urge to help people that he didn't know and those who might want it. Because of Jim. Because Sam had a promise to keep.

 **A/N: So, I've seen several people start a prompt series (I.E: Where they take prompts from their readers and write them out!) and I thought "Hey, that seems kinda fun! I'd like to try it!"**

 **So if you're intersted in something like that feel free to contact me and send me your prompt! 3 I'm on Discord at #TheGreatBagel #8108 :) Or you can message me on tumblr at FortheLore :) Also, feel free to just talk to me! I don't bite! I promise!**


	6. Chapter 6

**Survived By…**

 **Part Six**

Sam stared at the mush on his plate as he tried to focus his mind. The day had proven to be an off one; he had woken up running ten minutes late, and then had missed his train into the city. From there, he had been knocked into by a thug that had spilled his own latte all over his shirt without throwing so much as an apologetic glance over his shoulder. And when he had arrived at the hospital, he had realized that the thief had stolen his damned wallet which just happened to have his I.D.

And then, as he walked towards Marcus Prince's room, he was overwhelmed with a feeling of loss. His chest tightened up, and a ball of bile formed in the base of his throat. It worked its way up to the back of his throat, dancing around his uvula. He paused just in front of the door, sending a quick cursory glance towards Peter's own door. He knew that the kid wouldn't be there by the time he had finished Marcus Prince's session. Tony had sent over the confirmation papers that morning.

"Oh man," Sam sighed heavily, shaking the anxiety from his shoulders. His knuckles rapped against the heavy wooden door before he made his way into the ever familiar room. "Good morning, Mr. Prince," Sam dropped his bag at the foot of the bed before settling into his regular chair.

The man grunted as he watched Sam from the corner of his eye.

"Why are you always visiting?" The man grunted crossing his arms over his chest. "Aint you got nothin' better to do?"

"Nope," Sam chuckled to himself dragging a hand over his face. On top of the awful morning he had, Sam hadn't gotten much sleep last night. He had to help Tony sneak into the compound, and get the med bay set up so that Peter would have everything he needed. Then the man had called Bruce up from the lab and it took three hours to convince both men that they needed sleep in order to get the kid a cure. By the time he had retired to his own bed, Sam was facing only about three hours of sleep.

"Life kickin' your ass?" Marcus pursed his lips watching the way that Sam's eyes drooped just a little. His shoulders slouched forward and he sighed dragging a hand over his face. "Alright ya sonuvabitch….what's bugging ya?"

"I have a problem," Sam grouched glaring at the wall. In the moment, he hated everything that had to do with Tony and Bruce, and the entire situation with secretly moving a mini-super hero into the Avenger's compound. It was going to boil up into another explosion, and Sam didn't know who he would side with when the time came.

"I kinda figured that, dumb ass." Marcus grouched crossing his arms over his chest. The wrinkles around his eyebrow only deepened as he frowned at the man occupying the chair. He had grown accustomed to Sam stopping in on his routine check ins. Hell, the man hadn't been to bad to be around, but Marcus had received some good news earlier that morning. "So what the hell is wrong?"

"There's a kid," Sam sighed heavily leaning his head back against the head rest. His eyes found a spot on the spackled ceiling. He focused on it, as he debated on whether or not he could tell Marcus. But getting people to open up worked both ways, didn't it? How could he expect Prince to open up to him if he had never so much as tried to talk about his own problems. "There's this kid...and he's sick. Like really sick..."

"Like he's here?" Marcus' voice was clear and contrite. Memories flipped back to his own kids, and how he had outlived them. His son's face just before he had been shipped off flashed along side his daughter's last smile. The voice of the doctor, and the priest, and everyone who had ever said ' _I'm sorry for your loss_ ' flitted through his head in one overwhelming wave. They crashed down around him, and for just a moment, he had connected with Sam.

"Yea," Sam cleared his throat. "And he's this….so far he's this amazing kid, ya know? I was here off duty yesterday because I know his power of attorney. Anyway, the kid is...he was in the stone and he came back sick. But he was doing homework," Sam pinched the bridge of his nose with a shaky breath. "He was doing his homework. He expects to get over this and go back to school..."

"But survival rate is low from that, ain't it?" Marcus whispered, his own shoulders sinking down. "You can't lie to the kid...It ain't right. He ain't gonna wake up one day, and it's not fair to let him think he will."

"I know," Sam cracked doubling over. "I know! I want...I want to make that so clear to this attorney, but if I do...If I tell him that I don't think he has time, then I'm going to lose both of them. And the world will lose someone so...so damn important!"

"It's not easy," Marcus reached a gnarled hand out to rest on his shoulder. His fingertips dug into the man's shoulder as he offered the most reassurance that he could through his touch. "It hurts...losing a kid hurts. I couldn't imagine losing the same kid twice. But he'll be able to pick up and move on. It's not the end of the world."

"No, it's just-" Sam groaned effectively cutting himself off. "We made it through that," He chuckled darkly, mind flitting back to the memories of the stone. He had been in it at one point; he didn't recall much of how he had arrived there. And when he came back, he hadn't bothered too much to ask because it was as if he hadn't been gone in the first place. He had woken up leaning against a tree under some brush in Wakanda. "I...I never asked to be involved with this kid," Sam sighed heavily allowing himself to slouch forward and into himself. He never got the chance to talk about his own problems; for all he talked about having the ability to talk to people, he had never learned it himself. "But something about him draws people in. Kid's got doe eyes like bambi..."

"I knew a kid like that," Prince huffed, his chest crackling with the words. "He was a good kid, could always depend on him, ya know? He'd stop by twice a week and make sure I was taken care of. So I get it..." He grimaced glancing back towards the television. "But if we live, we have to have a reason. I never found mine, Sam. Don't let your friend lose sight of his reason." A shadow of exhaustion settled over the man's face.

"I...I won't," Sam nodded taken aback. Marcus Prince had opened up to him just a little bit more, and instead of slamming the door closed, he left it open. It was a step in a direction, he just didn't know if it was the right direction. Knowing that Marcus was willing to open up, meant that Marcus was willing to listen to him and get help to accept the inevitable. And even though he was only in a few sessions, Sam found himself getting attached to the man. It was something in the way that he talked, and his gruff attitude towards a life that no matter what hit him he was grateful for it. He had taken his experiences and learned from them, and he was doing his best to pass his own thoughts and information off onto anyone who would listen.

"Good," Prince sighed, his eyes drooping as the energy that he had saved up left his body. The color that had tinted his lips had left, and his face had gone pale. For just a moment, Sam's heart leaped up into his throat. He looked as if he had passed on; his eyes were peaceful and glazed, his chest moved up and down so slowly that it was almost imperceptible.

"I'll let you rest," Sam smiled heavily, dragging the blanket up to rest just under the man's chin. He didn't flinch, didn't acknowledge that the blanket had even been brought up. His lashes simply dipped as the man slipped into a heavy sleep.

The compound was bustling with people and energy when Sam returned. His badge swung around his neck as he slipped through hallway after hallway. His feet picked whichever direction it was that he was going—which most definitely was not towards the commons area. Instead, he found himself scanning his badge to enter the medical bay that Tony had set aside strictly for Peter.

How he had managed to pass the room off as an extra lab, Sam was completely unsure, but it was a good thing. If it had been viewed as another medical bay, Sam was sure that the rest of the group would have made their way over by now. As it stood, Sam, Bruce, Tony and a select few others—namely: Happy, May, and Helen Cho—had access to the 'lab'.

"Hey Kid," Sam smiled stepping into the room. The brunette shot up, far more energetic than he should have been. A different type of nasal cannula was inserted directly up the young man's nose. The other end, which Sam couldn't see, was no doubt sunk somewhere inside of his lungs to make sure that he wasted no oxygen. And because of this, the kid had energy and looked significantly healthier than he had back at the hospice.

His face was flushed, his lips were a soft purple, and not the deep blue that they had been turning the last time he had seen him. Sam glanced towards the dancing finger tips as he focused on the papers in front of him—a pout filling his lips. The purple that had plagued them had receded minutely, but not enough to be a cause of celebration.

Maybe Tony and Bruce really were onto something with this cure thing.

The kid's head shot up, his eyes widening for just a moment before his shoulders dropped in ease.

"Hey Mr. Wilson...er...Falcon, sir?" The kid's brows pursed as his eyes darted back to his papers. Seriously, why couldn't every kid in America be as dedicated to their education as the one before him?

"Call me Sam, kid." He nodded dropping his bag beside him. It had been a fairly quiet day at work, not too many notes to look over and memorize. He didn't even have to worry too much about getting a report ready for the board because everything had gone fairly smoothly—suspicious since that morning had been utter crap.

"Hello, Sam. I'm Peter...um...Not...uh Not kid." He held his hand out for a proper shake. Sam stared at the hand, before throwing his head back in laughter. Leave it to the kid to politely tell him not to call him kid. Jeez, no wonder Tony was head over heels.

"Hello Peter not kid." Sam snarked, a smirk falling on his lips as Peter's eyes narrowed playfully. It was refreshing, Sam found himself thinking as the kid turned back to finish the equation on his paper, to have someone who didn't always have to pretend to be an adult. It was nice to remember that there aren't just kids, adults, and elderly, that there was an awkward stage in between where people were still trying to figure out who they were and who they wanted to be.

But what was really nice, was seeing the kid's ebb and flow with the situation. He wasn't determined for a single set out come. He went with the days, and took them in stride, learning from each hit and blow.

Though, Tony would argue it with him. The kid, by Tony's standards, was an adorable pain the ass that blew up lab experiment after experiment, and was bullied by some kid named Flash. To Tony the kid was the reason he had to install safety measures on his private lab that automatically put out any fire started, and why had to install a tracker in the kid's suit. To Tony, this kid was the kid that Tony never had. Peter was his chance to prove that he could be a parent, and that he could do a hell of a better job than Howard ever had.

But Tony would never openly admit it to anyone.

And Sam found that sad. He found the thought hurt him right in his heart, because he could never imagine hiding how proud he was of his nephew when he did something good. Or how excited he was when he was with Jim and found out his blood level counts were all going in the right direction. Sam couldn't imagine having to internalize losing the most important person to him. He certainly couldn't imagine the possibility of having to do it twice.

"Do you remember the soul stone?" Peter question, pushing the paper into another stack. His hand hovered just over the second stack, as if debating to continue with his missed homework.

"Not very much," Sam sighed leaning forward on his forearms. If he was honest, it all seemed to just happen within a second for him. He had been laying under some brush after a particularly hard hit, and then boom, it was all black. He recalled inhaling, and feeling like he was swimming, and then Rhodey was calling for him as he performed CPR in the center of a New York alley.

"I saw my Uncle Ben," The kid nodded softly, allowing his hands to fall into his lap. There, they fidgeted until the knuckles popped and the tips were a darker shade from the worrying. "He was upset, ya know? Not with me, but the situation." The kid's eyes frosted over as he revisited the memory. "I told him who I was...Spider-Man, ya know?" His shoulders hunched in as he tugged his knees up to his chest. "It uh..." He cleared his throat and shook his head. It was a method to erase the memory from forefront of his mind; simply locking it away in a box to be dealt with later.

"Anyway," He sighed and glanced at Sam anxiously. "What's the outside world like?"

"It's...It's chaos," Sam nodded, testing each word before saying them. He wanted to update the kid on everything that had happened, but he also understood that he would have to keep some of it locked away. If the kid really was anything like Tony had told him—which Sam was starting to question—then he would find a way to wiggle his way out of the room and back out onto the streets. "A lot of people are still trying to wrap their minds around everything that happened. We're still in the recovery period."

"What are crime rates like?" He worried his lip between his teeth.

Sam could already see it—the small globe that resembled Earth. He watched as the child metaphorically picked it up and rested it on his own shoulders so that he could make sure it kept spinning another day, even if it required him to get sickeningly dizzy in the process.

"Nothing for you to worry about for now." Sam sighed dragging a hand over his face. Definitely Tony' kid. "You need to rest, and get better before you should really start thinking about hopping into that fancy spandex of yours."

"If Mr. Stark was here, he would be offended by that." Peter chirped with a shake of his head. "They won't let me watch any news, or have any technology. It's boring. I just...I need something to know that we're getting better and that we're not headed into destruction again."

"We aren't," Sam muttered crossing his arms over his chest. "The Avengers are here for that. We'll protect the world while you're down. And when you're better, you can come join us. Tony already said that he kind of inducted you, right?"

"Yea, on the ship." Peter motioned up to space with his hand as if it was normal for every teenager to travel into space and to another planet completely. "But after everything that happened up there, he won't let me out of his sight."

"He's just...He's scared," Sam hummed turning his eyes up to the ceiling. It sucked being a go between for two people. He could imagine how hard it was for Peter to talk to Tony, and how hard it was for Tony to actually listen. The man had never listened to anyone, always surging forwards with his own ideas and trepidation. "He doesn't want to lose you again. Once he deems you healthy enough, you'll probably be allowed to continue."

"And in the mean time? What about the woman who goes to Mr. Delmar's every weekend? Her husband abuses her because he got fired. Or what about that teenager that was selling drugs on the side of the road? Or what about that kid, Miles Morales?" Peter pursed his lips as he stared at the table in front of him. His mind had concocted some idea that without him, the world would simply fall apart. "His dad is a cop, someone has to make sure he goes home every night."

"And someone has to make sure that you're healthy. In order for you to do your job, Pete," Sam reached over to rest a hand on the kid's wrist. "You have to let Tony do his. He isn't doing this to spite you."

"He's doing it in spite of me," Peter nodded softly. "I know...It's...The guard said I was needed...I just...How needed can I be if I'm stuck he-" A red light filled the room just before the screeching sound of the alarm had. Peter's hands went straight for his ears, cupping over them in an attempt to block out the screeching.

Sam jumped from his chair, already aware of what an alarm meant. Tension filled his shoulders, pulling his chest taught as he stared at the door. He knew someone wouldn't be stupid enough to break into the Avenger's Compound, but that didn't mean that they wouldn't try.

"Sam," Cap's voice broke over the alarm, muting it only momentarily. "FRIDAY said you're in the compound?"

"Yeah, I'm in the southern wing. What's going on?" Sam reached towards his bag, grabbing the watch that Tony had designed to hold his armor and wings in a single small pod. Scott Lang and Dr. Pym may or may not have had anything to do with it. Sam hadn't gotten himself involved in the logistics of it all. He had simply accepted the gift as it was, and linked it across his wrist to give it a try.

"Don't really know yet. Suspected forced entry." Steve was in a huff. Sam could picture his shoulders pinched tight, and his brows drawn down in concentration. He didn't really know how to work any of Tony's gadgets or safety features—he had never taken the time to let the inventor train him.

"FRIDAY," Peter called, clearing his throat a bit. "What's going on?"

"Who's that?"

"Someone is currently trying to enter the compound via a private entry in the southeastern wing." FRIDAY's voice muted the alarm in the room. The light however, still flashed casting red shadows over the room with every rotation of the reflector.

"Who's that someone Fri?" Sam growled glancing as the kid struggled to climb to his feet from the bed. Logically, Sam knew they were probably in one of the safest rooms of the compound, but the idea of someone getting to them was still a thought that Sam would entertain.

"Judging by the masks, and their previous history, Hydra." FRIDAY buzzed lightly—if an AI could sound annoyed, Sam was pretty sure this is what it would sound like. Tony had certainly come a long way in his programming skill since his own days in Stark Tower.

"Hydra...Already?" Steve cursed over the phone, and for a moment Sam very much wanted to bag him for his own language. However, they had much larger problems to worry about.

"I thought you said they hadn't spotted Red Skull since Miami!" Sam snapped at the corner where he knew Tony had installed a microphone. "How did they collect themselves so fast?"

"Why are they attacking the compound, is the bigger question. It's a stupid move, to attack us in our home." Steve groaned, dragging a hand down his face—if the muffling of the mic was anything to go by.

"Because," Peter piped up struggling to disconnect himself from the IV line. He gasped heavily as he cut off his own oxygen supply to untangle the wires before reconnecting them. "Tony has his nanobot suit here. Top of the line," He took a moment to cough into his own hand. "They want the new Iron Man suit tech."


	7. Chapter 7

**Survived By…**

 **Part Seven**

"Kid, I've got a bad feeling about this, I really do." Sam muttered into the communicator as he followed the ever winding halls of the Avengers Compound. If it had been left to him, he probably would have designed the place to be a little more user friendly. He certainly wouldn't have made it like one of the old hospitals that he had been inside so many times. It down right creepy, how similar it was—even down the sterile lighting from up above.

"Yea, trust me," The kid huffed, moving silently above him. "But this way is clear, for now at least. Besides, we just need to get to the lab. Once we get there," He paused to cough into his arm. "Once we get there, we need to activate a safety protocol that would make the nanites useless."

"Okay, and if-" The building shook violently with the sound of an explosion. Sam paused momentarily to throw his arm over his head in order to protect himself from the small bits of debris that were collapsing from the ceiling. A swelling ball of anxiety was forming itself in the pit of his stomach as flashbacks of war, and of the building in Lagos. Swallowing the saliva that eased its way in between his teeth, Sam forced his feet back into motion. "And if we don't make it to the lab, what's so special about these nano robots, or whatever?"

"They're part of the new suit Mr. Stark designed." Peter bounced waiting for Sam to catch up. He had already rounded the corner, and hopefully scoped out whatever area lay ahead. "If HYDRA can get their hands on it," He shakes his head muttering to himself quietly before flicking his mask back up at the man next to him. "Take Steve Rogers, and apply something very much like a vibranium iron man suit to him." The kid bounced from foot to foot, surely missing the way he felt in the spider-man outfit. "It would let him move without any interruptions, but it could enhance his strength, and it can change its form and shape based upon the persons desire because of the sensors attached to the head. It can-"

"Pause," Sam groaned a bit throwing a sideways glance at the teenager. He noticed his chest was hitching, and his breaths were coming harder. "You're telling me, that Tony's newest suite, is like..." He waved his hand around the air frantically as he looked for a way to phrase it. He knew that Tony's newest Iron Man suit was definitely superior to the last hundred and something that the man had made. He had, after all, seen it flying overhead when he finally came too in Wakanda. Sam had watched as Tony stormed down the halls of the Wakandan castle, prepared to go back into space wearing only the damned suit.

It had shocked him at first, how Tony was willing to face his greatest fear and return to space. He had been there when Steve had to talk the man out of going back to Titan in order to search for the kid—of course he hadn't know Tony was going for the kid then. Then, it had just seemed as if Tony was on a suicide mission; like he didn't know how to cope with everything that had happened during Thanos, and the recovery of the universe. Soon enough, everyone was home and Tony had just...disappeared. He didn't go to the meetings, he didn't involve himself in anything.

"I'm telling you, that in the wrong hands, it can be catastrophic." The teenager wheezed; Sam could tell the kid was absolutely rolling his eyes under the mask. It was abundant in his voice; he could practically see the eye roll in the audio wave.

"I get that. Anything Tony makes can in some semblance be catastrophic. But why would that be the specific tech that they're after? They're breaking into the compound. It holds-"

"The most lucrative lab in the world, Mr. Wilson." A third voice interrupts the whispered conversation. It's deep and rattles against the walls; reverberates and bounces back into Sam's ears as he turns to face the speaker. "Well, hello again Mr. Wilson." A crooked smile worked its way onto the man's face as he stepped closer.

Out of instinct, Sam reached out, shielding Peter from the man standing before him. His teeth worked themselves against each other as he kept himself composed. He schooled his features so that to the man approaching he was a blank slate.

"Ross," Sam nodded his head pushing the kid behind him. If he wasn't glad the kid had that damned mask on before, he was jumping with relief now. Tony had made it abundantly clear that Ross had no idea who Spider-Man was; had drilled it into the man that he had taken all precautions to keep the kid out of the media as much as possible so that they couldn't be linked. "Fancy seeing you here. You aren't usually involved in your own dirty work." A sneer worked its way into his upper lip.

"Tsk, tsk," Ross smirked deviously. It was tight, and drew the lines on his face taught until it was a wicked grin. "No need to be so rude, Mr. Wilson." The man stepped forward, eyes flickering just over his shoulder where they roamed the young man pushed behind him. "And Spider-Man. Fancy meeting you here, of course. I always knew Stark was lying," Once weary eyes narrowed at the spiderling.

Sam could feel the kid tense behind him, and based on the slight trembles that worked that way through him, he was starting to feel the lack of breath.

"Stark was never lying. He was one of ours," Sam growled placing his entire body in front of the kid. The small hand gripped at the back of his jacket. Cautiously, he allowed his own eyes to dart around in search of an exit in case things hit the roof—figuratively and literally. Just above him, there was an entrance into the vents—they were more than strong enough to hold the weight of both men. However, it would be just as easy for Ross to worm his way into it either, and then it would be more dangerous than it would be safe. They would be confined, and it would be harder to move.

"Are you wanting to leave already?" Ross tutted stepping just a breath closer. "That's quite rude, Sam. Where is that military training that I've heard so much about?" Sam bristled at the comment; the man was expecting him to salute him, and stand at attention. And had it been any public situation, or a situation where his higher ups would have commanded it, he would have. It would have been second nature to the man. However, at the moment, the connotation was that he was a dog that was disobeying it's owner.

"Um, yea," The kid wheezed peeking his head over the man's shoulder. One lens was larger than the other, giving him a look of confusion. "You literally just broke into our house, and you're kind of creepy looking. So forgive us for acting like people who have had our privacy invaded." The kid pushed himself between Sam and the wall before stepping out in front. "And also, why did you have to blow up the side of the building? There was totally a front door! There's even a door bell!" The kid threw his arms into the air. Sam caught sight of the nearly invisible webs that flew out from the bands attached to Peter's wrist. "Like dude, how rude can you be?"

Ross' brows furrowed dangerously as he watched the teenager.

"What are you up to?" He snarled stepping even closer; his voice was minutely deeper, and sent an unwelcome shiver down Sam's spine. He could only imagine how the kid interpreted it.

"Me? I'm up to the ceiling." Peter jerked back on the webs, drawing them taught, before they launched him right over the man's head. Sam watched in amazed bafflement as Peter landed behind the suited man. He had never seen the kid move so fluidly. After all, he hadn't gotten to see much of it in Leipzig, and Peter was just beginning his Spider-Man work back then, so he was still a clumsy pre-teen.

"What?!" Ross snapped turning just in time for Peter to kick the man just below his ribs. He flew back, sliding along the hallway until he only a meter away from Sam with a solid 'oomph'.

"C'mon," Peter wheezed motioning for Sam to rush towards him. He paused only for a second; just long enough for his brain to process everything that was going on. But it was long enough for Ross to make a move; he reached into jacket and whipped out a sleek black glock.

"No," Sam yelped lunging towards the man before all sound stopped; with the exception of the thundering of his own heart. Blood rushed to his ears as he took it all in—blood splattered along the floor just behind the kid. Then he was falling, his knees wobbling lightly before giving out completely. "No," Sam whispered sending a violent kick to the man's head before rushing down the hall. "Shit,shit, shit," He whispered finding the wound to the kid's shoulder and panicking more. Because what the hell? What kid just puts themselves in that situation? Who on Earth could possibly think it would be a great idea to attack the on and only asshole that had pushed the Avengers to run for almost two years?

This kid, because of course it would be this stupid self-sacrificing child that he had spent the past weeks listening to Tony complain about. He should have known, long before they even left that damned room that they had been locked in all day, that the kid would find a way to take a bullet. And of course, it would be self-sacrificial asshole that brings him into this hell.

"You okay, kid?" Sam glanced down, debating on lifting the kids mask or leaving it in place. If he lifted it, he would have an easier time breathing around the nasal cannula that they had managed to attach to the inside of the suit—the kid had damned nimble fingers when he wanted them to be.

"Fine," The kid wheezed pushing Sam's hand away. He glanced at his shoulder sighing heavily as the wound was already cauterizing itself and starting to crust around the edges. Sam had heard from multiple sources about mutants with healing factors. However, he had never seen one in action. It was actually kind of freaky watching the sinew of his muscles weave themselves back together. "Just need a few minutes and it'll be okay. No major damage, just hurt like a bitch."

"Language, young padawan." Tony Stark's voice cut over the intercom. "Also, Sam, What the hell!? He's your patient, as in he's sick. As in why the hell is he out of his bed?"

"Mr. Stark," The kid groaned throwing his head back flinching at the movement. His voice was shakey, and full of embarrassment that Sam felt was probably a common effect. "It's fine, I'm fine. I'm still breathing."

"Barely. You should still be in the room! How did you even get past Friday's Downed Spider protocol kid?" Sam imagined Tony crossing his arms over his chest as he stared down at the kid in a worried disappointment—more for the fact that he was ignoring any health concerns than the fact that he had gotten hit. "Did Ted help you hack into the main frame again? I swear to god, I need to hire him before someone else does." Tony sighed. The sound of him dragging a hand over his face muffled over the com.

"No!" The kid squeaked softly sitting up, hand rubbing the spot where the wound had been. "I did it by myself this time. You should really upgrade her firewalls. I didn't even use my laptop."

"In other words," Friday's voice interrupted the conversation. "They climbed through the vents." The AI sounded extremely pleased with herself—which since when had she been able to form her own opinions and emotions? Tony was coming a long way with this one, perhaps farther than he had with JARVIS.

"Tattle tale!"

"I knew it," Tony grunted out. "There was no way the kid could have hacked it that fast alone." He sounded relieved, which Sam couldn't decide was a good thing or a bad thing. "Either way, FRIDAY, show them to the lab and then lock it down. Also, enact Protocol This is my Home. I think I've let Cap and them fight enough on their own."

Sam sighed dragging a hand over his face, before stepping forward and offering a hand to the kid. A gloved hand wrapped around his own, before hauling the thin form to his feet.

"Aw, Mr. Stark, no fun." Peter pouted, shoulders slumped forward in exhaustion. "I never get to fight bad guys anymore."

"Kid, you are literally a walking geezer at the moment. Have you listened to yourself breathing? Pretty sure Spider's don't wheeze, or sound like they're dying of pneumonia. Which, by the way, they don't. I should know, I've done a lot of research since you've somehow popped up on radars." Tony grunted as something rattled behind him. "Anyway, hurry up and get to the lab. I've got some results that are ready for testing."

"Sweet," Peter wheezed glancing down at the body that stood between him and Sam, and the hallway beyond. "Think you can hold him up for like..two minutes?

* * *

"Kid," Tony huffed, removing the goggles from his face. He looked as if he hadn't slept in days, which, Sam thought, could be completely possible. After all, it wasn't uncommon for Tony to lock himself up in the lab; lost to the focus that seemed to eat him up from the inside out. His hands were shaky—he probably hadn't taken a break long enough to eat a decent meal, or he was running on just coffee, tea, or Red Bull. "You have a death wish?" He grabbed the teenager by his shoulders staring him straight in the face. "Who am I kidding, of course you do." He sighed dipping his head a bit as he glanced back up at the kid. "You're my damned protege, why on Earth would you want to live?"

"Aw, Mr. Stark," The kid groaned heavily slumping into the man. To a group of strangers it would look as if the kid was trying to get a hug from the man. But Sam knew better. The kid was exhausted, and was struggling to keep himself up as some kind of alien mutation ate the oxygen that his body was attempting to absorb. "It wasn't even that great. Literally, it's like we just took a walk."

"And ended up finding out that, somehow, your healing factor has severely increased since the last time you've had to use it. Which oh yea, you wouldn't have had to find that out if you had, oh I don't know," The man turned a dead panned expression to the boy. "If you had stayed put in your room, obeying the lock down order Friday was trying to put in place."

"We still didn't get seen by the other's though!" The kid chirped, very obviously testing his boundaries.

"Kid," Sam sighed, allowing himself to sink down onto the bench. He had never personally been into Tony's lab—he had never found a reason to ask for entry. And any equipment upgrades had always been tried out on the roof of the compound. He would have liked to take a moment to take in the absolute mess that was everywhere. It was a stark comparison to the pristine conditions in the rest of the compound. "Just...shut up." He drug a hand over the back of his head, down to the base of his skull. "The adults need to talk."

Tony pursed his lips nodding his head over to a soft plush couch in the corner of the lab.

"Go on underoos. The adults are going to talk while I put together a mock oxygen tank. Bruce will get your vitals checked." To Sam, he nodded towards a small office off to the opposite corner.

"Ross was in the compound," Sam whispered as the door shut behind him. His jaw tightened and clenched as the situation began to settle around him. Ross knew where they were, and he was a live. He had broken into the compound at the same time as a group of Hydra agents had broken in. "Ross-"

"Isn't part of the government anymore," Tony sighed dragging a hand over his head. "Friday, Silence the Spidey protocol."

"Complete." The voice called over the intercom. The sound in the room seemed to grow substantially. Even though there were only two people, and few words were being said, it seemed as if the silence was deafening.

"Now, kid's got super hearing. Invisible sound barrier." Tony sighed as if it were elementary—which for the inventor it probably was. That doesn't mean that it doesn't leave Sam reeling at the thought. The team was damn lucky that Tony Stark was a good guy, and not some demented evil doer. He's pretty sure there's no way that the Avengers would have been able to take him on. It would have taken just one or two play time accidents for the man to properly rule the world if he wanted to. "Ross is no longer part of the government. Got completely released after the Thanos snap. I made sure of it."

"So why is he here then? Why is Hydra attacking us? They shouldn't have been able to build up so soon." Sam pursed his lips together. The entire time he had been trying to grasp the situation, really he was. But he had so much more to think about; the kid, making sure that he was either accepting of his death, or that he would eventually live and push through it. He had to make sure that Steve and Tony never bumped into each other, because for some reason Tony wanted to slink around the group like a kicked puppy. He had to keep eyes on Steve, and make sure that he didn't make any rash decisions with the Red Skull claims. Sam needed to make sure that Bucky never ended up back in the hands of the Hydra agents, because even though they went on benders to make sure all hide outs were destroyed—that didn't mean that the information pertaining to the Winter Soldier wasn't still there.

"They aren't," Tony collapsed into the chair at the desk. "They haven't built themselves up nearly enough for this. So I'm in the same boat. Why the suicide mission? I've had eyes on every hideout that Steve has taken out." He shot a glance up at Sam; a warning not to tell the man because really, he wasn't ready to deal with that just yet either. "This a farce. They're trying to figure out if we're still fragmented, or if we've finally gotten out shit back together."

"A reconnaissance?" Sam frowned crossing his arms over his chest. It made sense to a degree, but it didn't. If this was just a mission for them to gather some well known in tell, then why send so many soldiers, if they didn't have that many to spare? It would have crushed and cleared out whatever ranks they had left.

"In a sense," Tony nodded leaning back to look Sam directly in the eyes. "Think of it as a trial. They're trying to figure out who is smart enough to lead. Who has the brains, who has the brauns. They're searching for weaknesses, fallacies in our methods, and worst of all, they're recording every conversation that Steve and the group is having. Don't give me that look," Tony scrunched his nose glaring lightly at the man before him. It was as if Sam had questioned his intelligence—which to a degree the man was. If he knew and had gathered all of that information about what was happening in a matter of forty-five minutes, why had he not stepped in to stop them?

"Then why-"

"Because, Sam. They don't know I'm still here. The world doesn't know that Tony Stark is still here. Just like the world has no idea that Spider-Man is here. And they won't know. The kid and I? We're the surprise they never saw coming. As far as the world knows, Peter Parker does your upgrades. He was my protege before the damned snap. So why wouldn't he be the one to take over Stark Industries in my place? Pepper is CEO, but to the world..."

"To the world, you're nonexistant?"

"Bingo."


	8. Chapter 8

Survived By…

 **Part Eight**

"Sam," Steve sighed as soon as the man entered the communal floor. Blood was dried in splatters across his face, and there was a healing bruise just under his eye. His voice had a tint of that 'I am disappointed in you', which Sam did not enjoy being directed at him at all. It meant that Steve did not forget that Sam had been in the compound, and had not made it out to the fight. He had not forgotten that Peter had been in the same room as him when he had answered the call. "We need to talk."

"I know," Sam sighed collapsing on the couch. His hands cupped over the bridge of his nose as he stared at the soft white carpet that Pepper had picked out when redesigning the place. It was always soft against his feet whenever he had wandered through the room barefoot, and sipping on a tea. That's how it had been this morning—normal, and as expected. Now it was slightly dingy, stained a bit from the dirt and blood that had caked the Captain's boots.

"You didn't show up. We really could have used your help." Steve sat on the coffee table in front of Sam. His brows were drawn tight as he took in the look on Sam's face. He was attempting to read between the lines, and damnit, Sam wanted to be an open book. He wanted to come clean, but with the way that Tony had put it…

There was no way he'd be able to give up the man. And there was also no way to hate him for putting him in the position. After all, he hadn't planned on the therapist being assigned to Peter being the same one that he had been hiding from. Just like Sam didn't expect to walk into the hospital room and see Tony sitting in a corner clinging to a pale teenager's hand.

"Thaddeus Ross showed up," Sam whispered, pushing his face further into his hands. A bubble of anxiety bloomed in his chest at the thought. Ross had shown up in the hall ways. He had seen Spider-Man, and heard Tony's voice cut over the intercom. He had known exactly where he was heading, and he was going there on a mission. "I think he's associated himself with Hydra."

"Ross," Steve frowned leaning forward. His elbows rested on his knees as he pursed his lips. His eyes glanced towards the kitchen, before focusing back on the man in front of him. "That should be impossible. Ross was arrested months ago, just after the snap. He's supposed to be-"

"And Hydra is supposed to be dead, and the people who are getting sick are supposed to be alive and healthy. There's a lot going on that shouldn't be going on. Red Skull?" Sam's voice rose a few octaves as he stared at his friend. His nerves were finally fraying at the end; ripping and shredding themselves apart while the words urged to push themselves from his mouth. Because why should he be burdened with keeping Tony Stark a secret? Why should he be the only reason that the world doesn't know Iron Man is there, and that's helping, but it's all behind the scenes? Why was saving the world his responsibility, when all he had wanted to do was save the citizens? "Steve, something big is going on. And they're planning the perfect time to do it. They were looking for weaknesses today. They took us by surprise because we're off our game."

"And what do you suggest then? If you know what's going on so well," Steve sighed his shoulders slumping forward. He was at just as big of a loss as Sam had been. "What do we do? Because I was always the tactical leader. Tony was the one who was always good at figuring out what someone's next move was going to be."

"Yeah, well, Tony isn't here. So we're going to have think harder." Sam drug a shaky hand away from his face, before leveling his stare with the man before him. "I think we should bring on Tony's Intern. Peter Parker."

"You're patient?" Natasha's voice cut through the conversation. Sam hadn't realized that she had slithered in silently. Her had slithered onto his shoulder, reminding him momentarily of a time before the snap when he had been investigated just before he became an avenger. "The kid, right?"

Sam nodded silently. Words flitted through his mind, buzzing and humming as he tried to come up with a way to formulate the lie. His eyes closed tightly as he rested his forehead in his hands. His heart thudded in his chest as his shoulders shook slightly. He knew he would one day have to introduce them to the kid. That had never been the issue. The thing was, how would the kid cope with seeing his heroes?

He'd be excited, no doubt. But would that be good for him? Would it be ethical for Sam to introduce the kid to them? As an Avenger, he had thought it was a great idea. Introduce the kid, let him be the one to take Tony's words and put them into the world.

" _We can be linked through the kid," Tony had sighed as he leaned against the desk. His eyes darted over the couch, just out of view of Sam. The kid had curled up on it, and almost instantly fell asleep. His chest rose softly with each breath, helped along by the mask that Tony had concocted out of abandoned suit parts. "But that's it. That's the only way I'm coming out. If they find out I'm alive right now, the world will want to know why I haven't made a cure."_

" _Tony, that's not on you to make a cure." Sam had sighed crossing his arms tighter over his chest. He knew that they would have had this conversation eventually. Hell, he had brought it up once or twice while they were sitting down for coffee in some cafe or other. "There's thousands of doctors that are back that can work on a cure."_

" _But none of them are me. And if they do," He glanced up at Sam, his lips pursed and brows drawn into a tight frown. "They'll charge. How is that fair to the people? If I can create the cure, and it works, then I'm giving it for free. I can afford to do that. I've got income coming in out the wazoo. People are still buying the new Stark Phones. It's my tech that's being used in the hospitals. And after Thanos, after the destruction, they're buying more now than ever. That's why Pepper had to lower the prices. I can save the kid and millions."_

" _So why not practice it openly?"_

" _Because," Tony sighed reaching up to rub at his temples. "Then that puts a bounty on my head. Desperate people will come looking for me, and that'll take away from the time that I'm able to spend in the lab. Bruce is with me, you can tell the other's that he's on vacation he said. They wouldn't be surprised if he'd need one. Not like they'll want to bring the big guy out instantly."_

"Yeah," Sam sighed closing his eyes tightly. "That kid. Apparently, Tony thought he was worthy of taking over Stark Industries. Or at least splitting it between him and Pepper." He glanced up at the two standing before him. "Only thing is..."

"He's dying," Steve frowned. His ice blue eyes shaded over as he stared at Sam. "I don't think it'd be wise..."

"It'll be fine," A fourth voice bumped into the conversation. Peter hobbled into the living room, a small oxygen tank strapped over his shoulder. The canula hung loosely from his face, and swayed with each step. Out of instinct, Sam found himself standing to fix the silicone hose that kept air pumping into the kid's body. "I can handle it, I promise. Besides, Mr. Stark wouldn't want me to just sit around and wait to die."

"Kid, you should be resting. Let the adults-"

"No offense, Mr. Captain America, sir," The kid pursed his lips in defiance. _"His determined face."_ Tony had once deemed it. "But when you can do the things that I can," He stepped forward forcing himself to be nearly chest to chest with the super soldier. "But you don't, and bad things happen." Large brown eyes stared up into the man's face. "They happen because of you. Thanos has already taken away so much. The least I can do, is help get everything settled back to normal."

"I just still don't think that's a very good idea." Steve sighed. He glanced between Peter and Sam, his hands clenching and relaxing as they flopped in between his thighs. "It's dangerous, and you're just a kid. Not only that, either."

"I'm very much capable of protecting myself," Peter frowned, mouth tight with determination. "In case you haven't noticed, there haven't been any hits on me. The world barely knows about me. All they know is that I'm some kid that, according to rumors, Mr. Stark had illegitimately. And since he isn't here," The kid paused glancing down at the ground. It proved to make Steve think he was upset at the thought. To Sam's trained eye though, he was bracing himself for the lie. He was building it up inside himself, and bracing for the burn as it left his lips.

Tony had made damn sure that Sam understood the kid hated lying—he had done enough of it in the earliest days as Spider-Man, that the thought nearly made him sick. Watching him now, as he debated on how it was best to continue with the story, Sam felt sorry for him.

"Since he isn't here, what reason do they have to come after him?" Sam stated, his own eyes darting towards Steve, willing him to understand. "None. They have none, because they don't know the kid is super freaking smart. They have no idea that Peter can and will be the next Tony Stark."

"Okay...But-"

"But nothing, Steve." Natasha stepped forward her own lips drawn in a grim line. She had caught on to what Sam was trying to get the blonde to understand. They didn't have Tony anymore, and so they needed someone who thought exactly like he did in order to stay one step ahead. According to Sam, and the kid himself, Peter had been interning under Tony. Which meant, no matter how much she disliked the idea, that Peter probably had some similar thought processes to the man. "We need him. We'll keep it under wraps, and keep him locked in a safe room when we're away. Just until...until this is all blown over."

"Nat," Steve sighed dragging a hand over his face. He knew when he was back into a corner. Hell, Sam could feel the decision processing in the man's head. But Sam knew he wouldn't object. There were too many viable reasons for him to even try and object. It would get them nowhere, and no where was not where they needed to be right this moment.

"Fine, here's what we know." He glanced up at the teenager, brow drawn in consternation.

"I know," Peter nodded leaning forward. His chest wheezed with the extra pressure applied, but the determination was still there. "I know that Thaddeus Ross broke in this morning, and bypassed Friday's safety codes. And I know that Hydra was looking for weaknesses. You guys haven't been on the same playing field for a while, and that can be a good thing. This guy...Red Skull?" Large brown eyes glanced up to meet with everyone's. Sam hadn't remembered going over this with the kid while they had been down in the labs. Which meant that Tony probably already had a direct connection to the kid; a good thing, he was sure. That meant that Tony was probably watching the kid's vitals whenever he could. He was making sure that Peter wasn't doing anything stupid. Not that Sam would let him do anything too stupid. He felt a little too responsible for the kid now. "This guy, he thinks you're fractured. Let him."

"Let...So he doesn't expect us..."

"To work cohesively as a team." Peter nodded coughing lightly into his hands. Sam could see the exhaustion setting in. The nap had done him some good, but it hadn't been nearly long enough for his body to properly recover from the fatigue of the initial fight. And since the sun had set outside at some point, he was pretty sure the kid would just about pass out before too long. "Which means, we need to find a new training room. Just in case the one here is bugged. I'll have Happy and some of his guys check it over to be sure, but I'm concerned about the video surveillance as well. I'll make some updates to Friday's system tomorrow night to make sure every bug has been detected and deleted. Until then, I'll rig up some false security footage to throw them off."

"That's a lot of things to take care of in the next twenty four hours." Sam pursed his lips glancing the teenager over. He knew Tony would be the one really doing it, but he doubted that Peter would sleep if he thought there was even a smidgen of help he could offer. It was exactly what Tony Stark would have done. "I think you should rest first, take some time to get a bit better."

"I'll be fine, Mr. Wilson." Peter smiled at the man, but Sam didn't buy it. He could see the way his shoulders shook with the exhaustion, and how his eyes crinkled just a bit too much.

"I think he's right," Natasha stepped forward offering her hand to the teenager. A slight hint of red coated Peter's cheeks—and oh boy would Sam call him out on it later—as he grasped the woman's hands. "I think everyone should get some sleep. We've got a lot to go over with everyone else tomorrow."

"Agreed." Sam muttered offering his hand to the teenager. Peter grasped onto it, his fingers a lot smaller and bonier than Sam had remembered from earlier in the day. "C'mon kid, I'll get you hooked up back in the med bay."

"Thanks," Peter whispered, inhaling deeply. The veins from his hands and up his arms were turning a deeper shade of purple; deeper than Sam had recalled them being in the past days, and considerably darker than they had been when he first meet the teenager. "Can I uh..." He stumbled slightly, dragging a hand down his face. Sam nodded, squatting lightly in front of the teenager, allowing him to climb up before he started towards the elevator.

"No problem kid," Sam sighed softly. How his feet had carried them back to the med bay without stalling Sam wasn't sure. He felt more exhausted from today, than he had felt in a long time.

By the time that he had made it to the bay, Peter's breathing had leveled out, and came out in soft puffs against his neck. His eyes had closed somewhere between the fifth communal floor, and the floor just below Tony's lab. His lanky arms hung loosely over his shoulder as he opened the door.

"Hey kid," Tony hummed from just beside the bed. Sleep had gathered in the corners of his eyes, meaning he had fallen asleep while waiting for them to get back. "Or not," He chuckled helping Sam line up with the bed before sliding Peter off. "How'd it go?"

"They bought it, but barely," Sam sighed in a whisper. He drug a hand over his head allowing himself to collapse into the guest chair that was empty. "They're going to get suspicious soon enough. Where's the kid's aunt?"

"I sent her on a mini vacation with Pepper. They both flew out to Italy yesterday." Tony sighed matter of factually. He leaned his head back, sinking into his own chair. "Guess it was a good thing that I finally managed to get her to agree to a break." Tony sighed heavily, his eyes resting softly as the kid's machines beeped in the darkening room.

"And what about Ross?" Sam ground his teeth slightly at the thought of the man wandering around somewhere deeper in the compound. Not that Tony would let him off scott free. But it left Sam wondering. If he was involved with Hydra, how long would it be before they came back looking for him if he hadn't been released? Was the government in on it as well?

"He's locked up," Tony hummed quietly glancing up at Peter. He was making sure the child was asleep. It was a mildly protective movement; he didn't want the kid involved with Ross at all. Not that Sam could really fault him for that. He didn't even want to be involved with Thaddeus Ross. The man was a menace to everything that was good and decent. "He won't be getting out until I've got some information, and until he's been wiped."

"Wiped?" Sam frowned in confusion.

"Yeah," Tony drug a hand down his face, doing his best to work away the sleep that had started to build in the corner of his eyes. "I've got an old set of schematics for a memory machine. It was originally supposed to help people regain their memory in hospital. But I figure what can be done can be reversed as well." His head thumped back onto the headrest. In his lip, his thumbs drummed out a rhythm that man only heard in his head. "Kind of like what Hydra did to Buck. Rewrite his memory so that he stays out of way from now on."

"What about his family?" Sam pursed his lips. If this was going to be something they really did, then they would have to look and cover it from all angles. No use in starting something and missing the one thread that would unravel it all.

"Good thing is, he never married. He has a niece and nephew, but if Uncle Ross got into an accident after retirement, I highly doubt they'll come looking for him specifically."

"That's still dangerous. If they link his disappearance to us-"

"They'll link it to Hydra first. I've got all kinds of surveillance over New York. Trust me, this was not the first hunch I had that this guy was associated with Nazis." Tony sighed heavily, allowing his eyes to fully rest. His shoulders hunched down as he hunkered in for the long run. "Don't worry your pretty little head over it, Wilson. You focus on talking to the kid. Help him keep his head above water."

"Above...I'm starting to wonder if that's at all possible Tony. We didn't get too involved today, and whatever it is that he's got...Tony its spreading. It goes away with the mask, but its still there. And when I looked at his hands earlier there was more purple." Sam pursed his lips leaning forward more. A guilt was starting to build in his chest, and he wondered if this was how doctors felt when they had to tell their patients that they didn't have too much longer to live.

"He'll be fine," Tony hissed, eyes still closed. He was positive that the kid was going to be okay; or at least that's how he sounded. Sam didn't doubt that he was doing everything he could in order to get a cure. But what if Tony didn't find one in time? What if, at some point, the kid got to the point where there was no return? How would Tony handle it? Would he continue on with his plan to find a cure, or would he give it up to mourn? "I'm going to make sure of it."

"Right," Sam sighed heavily, leaning back in the chair harder than he meant to. It wasn't that he didn't trust Tony to find a cure. It was the time limit they were on. Everyone who had caught whatever disease this was, however Tony had described it—Microbial infection?-had died. There hadn't been a cure then, and the world would question why Tony would wait until one of his own had contracted it before jumping in to find a cure. To them, Tony was the fix all cure all. He should have been on it from the start. He had the means, and brains to fix whatever it was they were dealing with. But he hadn't. Not initially anyway.

Sam worried that when the time crunch really came down to its final count down, that Tony would shut down and let grief consume him. Then he wondered who the therapy was really for? Was he there to help the kid cope with his impending doom, or was he really there for Tony when the kid's death finally happened?


End file.
